The Lies We Tell
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: After Callen takes a personal leave, Nell goes to see him, which leads to a series of events no one saw coming. Callen/Nell
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Lies We Tell

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS: LA or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's just for fun.

**Spoilers:** None

**Pairing:** Callen/Nell

**Author's note:** I was surprised, and immensely excited, to see this pairing had some other fans. I've been thinking about writing something for them for awhile, and all the other great writers of this pairing inspired me to do so.

Also, although it may take me awhile, I'll never leave a story unfinished.

**XXXXXX**

He hadn't been to work in days. Hetty said he was taking a short personal leave, and he'd be back once he found what he was looking for (though no one seemed to know what that was – and if they did, they weren't telling).

They started a new case without him, and it wasn't until Nell truly felt his absence that she realized how necessary he was, and not just to solving cases. He was necessary to all of them, and she was growing increasingly worried about his well-being. Hetty reported that he was fine, but on the sixth night, after a particularly excruciating day, Nell found herself driving to his home instead of her own. She told herself to turn around, to go home and wait for him to return on his own time, but it was as if her body wasn't listening to her.

She told herself that she had a legitimate reason for seeing him that had nothing to do with her or the team. Their case was getting increasingly worse, and Nell wanted to let him know. He had a right to know.

She knew Hetty hadn't told him anything, because their boss had been unmoving on that particular fact – do not try and inform Callen of anything they were working on. Hetty didn't want to guilt him into coming back early.

Maybe Nell should have listened, but she was feeling particularly selfish. What could it hurt, really, to let him know that things were rapidly deteriorating? He might be their only way to salvage things, and they would never know if she didn't take it upon herself to defy Hetty and visit him.

That, alone, should have told her that more was at stake than her worry for the team. To go against Hetty was a tremendous breach of protocol, a direct contradiction of her superior's orders – and a superior whom she immensely respected, at that. And trusted. Though a small part of her wondered...if she really trusted Hetty, she couldn't have defied her, could she?

Or maybe it was that her need to see Callen was the only thing that could force her into ignoring their boss's orders.

Whatever the reasons, conscious or subconscious, they led to her standing on Callen's doorstep and waiting for him to answer his door. She second guessed herself a few dozen times in that span of 22 seconds.

None of her thoughts could make her leave, though.

Again, it should have told her something.

"Nell?" Callen asked, his gaze immediately moving past her to scan the surrounding area, because if Nell Jones, of all people, was knocking on his door, something must be wrong.

"Hi, Callen..." she began, then realized that while she had repeatedly worried about visiting him, her thoughts had never strayed far enough to contemplate what she might say when he actually answered the door.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, and she was relieved he didn't sound angry. She only heard confusion, and the slightest bit of apprehension. It was to be expected, though, when you visited someone past midnight.

She might have chosen to do this at a more convenient time. Too late now.

"I'm…uh, how are you?"

He merely looked at her, his gaze narrowing as if he were starting to read her mind.

She held up her hands in what she hoped was a sufficiently innocent gesture and took the slightest step back. He never scared her before, but from the way his gaze was darkening, she was beginning to regret bothering him in the middle of the night solely because she had a strange feeling that couldn't be assuaged by any amount of logical explanations from Henrietta Lange. "I wanted to see if you were…okay."

He tilted his head, as if considering her words and how true they might be. She'd never lied to him (never had any reason to) and that was probably why he accepted her words at face value. "Alright. But why are you here?"

"I told you, I wanted to check on you." She was feeling more ridiculous by the second. The best case scenario was that he would think she was a crazy colleague who felt the need to check up on her co-worker. No, not just her co-worker, her _boss_. Worst case? He'd not only think she was crazy, but also _a_ _stalker_.

"You could have called me," he said, a point that was frustrating due to its sheer rationality.

She nodded slowly; she had actually considered that. But she knew him, and she knew if something were really wrong, he might be able to hide it over the phone, but not in person. If she saw him face to face, she could much more easily detect his lies, see if something were truly hurting him, and what she could do to help. Plus, he wouldn't be able to rush her off the phone and ignore her update about the team. This way was best, she had decided. If he tried to shut the door, she could just reach out and force her way into his house and make him listen –

She inwardly winced, realizing she sounded like a stalker again, even in her thoughts. "I could have called," she acknowledged. "But I just wanted –"

She never got to finish her sentence, due to Callen tackling her in a move so rapid she didn't even realize what had happened until it was already over. She dimly registered the sound of a car backfiring (several times?), and the screech of tires.

No, she realized foggily as she sat up, not a car backfiring. Callen wouldn't have cared about that. Gunfire.

Someone had been shooting at them.

She ran her hands over her face and it jolted her to realize they were shaking crazily. "That was…" She couldn't say it, couldn't admit it was real.

The grim set of his mouth told her that her suspicions were correct.

She shook her head in denial. "No, no, Callen, we were not just shot at."

He was hardly listening to her, though, and she belatedly realized it was because he was studying her with intense focus – an agent doing his job after a life-threatening incident. He ran his hands down the sides of her face, to her arms, and then stopped abruptly. His face paled so quickly that she was afraid he was going into shock.

"Are you alright?" She asked, reaching out to – she didn't know what, and drew her hand back before it could reach him.

She looked over at her right arm, following his gaze, and her vision swam before her at the dark red spot spreading rapidly over the shirt covering her upper arm. That wasn't…it couldn't be…

She looked back at him desperately, hoping that he would explain it away. Like it was paint, or maybe she was hallucinating the stain that was just now beginning to feel warm, and strange.

Callen was saying something under his breath that she couldn't make out. No explanations were forthcoming, though. Instead he suddenly looked past her, as if just remembering they had been under attack. "Get up," he ordered, in a tone she had never heard before. Deadly. She didn't resist as he quickly pulled her to her feet and inside the house, watching numbly as he bolted the door behind him.

He directed her to his bathroom, and gave her a towel. "Press that as hard as you can against your arm and do not move," he ordered, then disappeared.

She wanted to ask where she would go. Instead, she listened as he talked to someone on his phone in the next room (Sam probably), explaining what had just happened.

He was back in less than a minute, and stopped short at seeing her. His expression, previously set on 'I-want-to-kill-someone,' softened slightly.

"You're okay," he said firmly, removing her hand from where it was pressing on the towel, and examining the wound.

She turned a bit to glance at the mirror she had been studiously avoiding. What she saw made her gasp slightly. Was that really her? She was so white that she could have passed for a ghost. No wonder he felt he had to treat her carefully. He probably thought she was going to pass out on him at any moment.

Well, maybe she was.

She wouldn't look at her arm as he cut the fabric of her sleeve away, instead focusing only on his face. His expression changed from furious to terrified to worried to relieved – and she honestly had no idea how she was able to process all of that in her current state.

"It's only a flesh would," he told her, and it explained the relief.

"Oh, is that all? Give me a band-aid and I'll be on my way."

He smiled at that, the first one she'd seen on him in ages – since long before he'd taken his personal leave, in fact. It was so rare that she mentally took a picture to remind herself of how he looked this way. He never let people see it, and she was glad he'd allowed her. Though she had been shot, and that meant she'd more than earned it.

"It could have been much worse," he told her as he cleaned the wound. She winced and pulled her arm away as he applied alcohol.

"Much worse as in you or I, or both of us, could be dead right now."

He glanced at her, and then down again. "Yeah," he murmured.

"Then I have to thank you. If you hadn't gotten us both to the ground…"

"Don't think about that," he said, and the dark expression from earlier crossed his face again. He dabbed at the wound with some gauze, and she examined his open medicine cabinet. It was practically a triage center with the amount of bandages and medicines he had in there. She wondered how often he needed those supplies. Obviously enough to stay well-stocked. He didn't own any real furniture, but his bathroom was practically a makeshift ER.

Her heart turned over painfully at what that meant.

"I'm sorry, Nell," he said quietly as he taped a bandage securely over her arm. "You shouldn't have been hurt. If I had only –"

"Hey," she argued, "it's not your fault. You didn't shoot at me. You saved my life."

He shook his head, clearly furious with himself. "I've somehow put you in danger."

"It's our _job _that puts us in danger," she insisted. "And I know the risks. If I couldn't accept them then I wouldn't have taken the job. Tonight only reminds me of why I rarely, if ever, leave headquarters. It's dangerous out here." Her attempt at a joke fell flat, and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I think that's good for now. You'll still need to see a doctor, though."

She glanced down at the bandage on her arm, then back up at him. He was…she couldn't quite identify it, but the closest word was distraught. She fought back tears, and not because of her arm which was now throbbing in unrelenting pain.

"Hey," she whispered, waiting until he reluctantly met her eyes. "I'm okay."

He looked as if he were going to argue with her, so she beat him to the punch. "I'm _okay_," she insisted, a little louder, gathering just enough courage to reach up and place her hands on either side of his face in an attempt at reassurance. She wanted to convey without words that he was allowed to be okay because _she_ was okay. She wanted to lean closer, to rest her forehead against his, to prove to him that she was fine. She couldn't though. She wasn't quite that brave.

He gave her a half-hearted smile, clearly not buying her protests completely. He turned his head so that he could kiss one of her hands, and she inhaled sharply.

She wanted to ask him why he'd done that, but distant banging on the front door broke her concentration, and she heard Sam shouting from the front of the house. Callen left to open the door before his partner broke it down.

"G! What's going on, are you alright?" Sam was storming through the house even as he interrogated Callen. He was apparently looking for possible security breaches.

She stepped to the bathroom door and waited for him to notice her.

"Nell! G told me you were shot, are you okay?" He reached her in two long strides, grasping her arm gently and examining the bandaged area. He looked back at Callen. "I didn't know you were a field medic."

"When it's called for," Callen shrugged. "It's a flesh would, but she needs to see a doctor, get stitches, and definitely antibiotics."

"We can go right now," Sam said, and Nell noticed that both he and Callen tensed as they heard another speeding car pull up in front of the house. Within moments, Deeks had burst through the door with Kensi close behind. The two of them froze, guns half-raised, as they scanned the room and realized there was no immediate danger.

Nell pulled away from Sam. "I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. Like hell she was going to go sit in a hospital waiting room for the rest of the night while they tried to figure out who had shot at her and Callen.

"You are going," Callen told her, in a tone that she never would have argued with before tonight. She felt differently now. She fully realized that it was ironic that she was defying him because she was worried about him, and that her behavior only worried him more. "You are," he repeated.

"I am not," she said, defiantly crossing her arms out of habit, and realizing a split second too late that damn, it _hurt_ to do that now, because her left hand was essentially pressing on the exact spot of her injury. She was too stubborn to change positions, though. She tried to surreptitiously loosen her stance, but it had little effect, so she bit her lip and suffered.

He shook his head in disapproval, and then took hold of both her hands, pulling them so that she had to uncross her arms. He had obviously seen her discomfort, but didn't comment on it in front of the others. "You have to see a doctor."

"I will," she swore. "But I'm fine for the moment, I'll go later. I'm not going to leave you now when we don't even know who tried to shoot at us." She wondered if he heard the slight, accidental intonation she'd put on the word 'you.'

"You shouldn't be here," he told her, and his words hurt almost as much as her arm. He didn't want her there, and the fact that it was because he was worried about her did little to make her feel better.

She pulled her hands from his. "Too bad, I _am _here and it's too late to change that."

He sighed. "You'll be safer the further from me you are."

She knew he blamed himself, but the depth of it surprised her. She wanted, badly, to correct him of that wrong notion. But she had no idea how. She would figure it out, she promised herself. She had to.

"How do you know that?" She asked, feeling her anger start to grow. "For all you know, the shooter was after me and followed me to your house! If I go off by myself, maybe I'll be giving whoever it is an open shot to finish me off."

Callen looked stunned, then horrified. She hadn't meant to scare him, but if that's what it took to get him to see reason, then so be it. She didn't see what point separating served, except to make both of them easier targets. "You have a point," he said, after a minute.

"Short of locking me up, you are not going to keep me away from you," Nell said vehemently, then froze. That had come out wrong. The four of them were staring at her: Deeks and Kensi still unclear about what had happened, but too enthralled in her and Callen's argument to ask questions; Sam thinking way too hard and looking back and forth between then suspiciously; and Callen watching her strangely, like she'd just said something incredibly important, but he wasn't exactly sure what it meant.

"I mean, I'm not…the hospital…what?" She trailed off, hoping her lack of coherence would make them think she was suffering shock from blood loss. Anything was better than this strange scrutiny.

Callen shook himself out of a semi-haze and refocused on her arm; blood was now seeping through the bandages, creating a bright red spot in the middle. She really did need a doctor, and she probably couldn't deny it anymore.

"I'll drive you," he said, and from his tone, he might as well have told her she wasn't leaving his side until they figured this out. He went to the kitchen for his keys.

Deeks and Kensi had been hovering in the near background, waiting for her and Callen to finish their fight, or whatever the hell it was. As soon as he left her immediate vicinity (truth be told, they'd been too apprehensive to get within even 5 feet of her with the way he was hovering), they swooped in to smother her.

"Are you okay? My god, I can't believe you were shot!" Kensi exclaimed.

"Callen says it's a flesh wound. Are you sure? What if he misdiagnosed it?" Deeks was about to rip the bandage off in his hysteria when a firm hand on his arm caused him to freeze.

"Don't touch her," Callen ordered.

Deeks wondered how the hell he'd returned that fast, and ripped his arm out of Callen's grasp. "Look, I know you're capable, but what if it's deeper than you think? We should call an ambulance."

Nell was glad Deeks hadn't been the one to first see her injury; she had the feeling she'd have been med-flighted by now.

"We don't need an ambulance," Callen said calmly, though he was clearly irritated that he was having to reassure Deeks, who wasn't even the victim. "We're leaving now."

"She could develop necrotizing fasciitis!" Deeks argued, then turned to Nell. "That's when flesh-eating bacteria eats away at the tissue and –" he broke off at the increasingly horror-stricken look on the younger woman's face.

"I could have _what_? My arm could _what_?" She was about to pull the bandage off to see the injury with her own eyes and reassure herself her arm wasn't going to fall off, or whatever Deeks was trying to explain.

Callen grabbed her hand before she could touch the bandage. "You do not have – ignore Deeks. You are fine."'

"You idiot," Kensi was berating her partner. "Were you watching _House_ last night? I told you to stop –"

"They don't just _make that stuff up_, Kensi," Deeks argued.

"Yeah they do, that's why it's called a TV show," she shook her head. "Next you're going to be diagnosing her with lupus."

"I am not – well, if she has the genetic markers then…hey Nell, have you ever been tested for –"

"I checked the perimeter," Sam said, unknowingly averting what could have turned into a violent altercation between Deeks and Callen. "No evidence of anyone watching the house, no suspicious vehicles in the vicinity. Whoever shot at you two is long gone. My guess is they were either laying in wait for Callen to emerge or they followed Nell here."

Nell realized she hadn't even noticed Sam was gone, apparently too caught up in Deeks' "diagnosis" of her injury.

"Nell," Deeks tried again, "I'm just saying you need a doctor." He glanced at Callen and added, "A _real_ doctor."

Nell knew he was trying to be helpful, and that his fear for her safety was causing him to argue with Callen, but it wasn't doing any good. If she didn't stop him, Callen was going to – she didn't know exactly what, but she knew it'd be something drastic and that Deeks wouldn't appreciate it.

She glanced over at Callen and realized he was still leveling a death glare at Deeks, his entire body tense. She leaned into him slightly, and when he met her eyes, she tried to remind him without words that she was going to be fine. They had a quick and silent conversation, and he finally nodded.

She saw that Deeks was about to speak again and cut him off before he could. "I am perfectly fine," she insisted, emphasizing the point by spreading her arms. That was a bad decision on her part, as it pulled at the wound and her vision swam at the pain, causing her to slightly lose her balance.

When she managed to regain her head, Kensi was holding onto her good arm, as if to steady her. She must have looked really bad, then.

One glance at Callen's face confirmed it; he looked as if he were physically holding himself back from removing Kensi and stepping into her place. "I think 'perfectly fine' might be a bit of a stretch."

"Yeah," she breathed out, carefully. "It might." She shook her head. "I'm not getting out of going to the hospital now, am I?"

He simply shook his head in response and she almost smiled at him. Truthfully, she didn't care if she went, as long as he went with her. In fact, she knew she needed a doctor. It was simply the idea of being dropped off there to wait alone for hours, possibly vulnerable to a killer, that had caused her to argue.

"Do you want me to take her? I can bring her, then meet you at headquarters…" Sam said, trailing off at the end, recognizing too late that Callen would never go for that idea.

Nell took a step forward to thwart another potential fight that would get them nowhere. "I'm going with Callen," she said, taking hold of his right arm with her left. "I need to keep an eye on him," she added, to lighten the mood.

It had the effect she'd been hoping for, as Callen turned to her in surprise, then gave her a genuine smile – the second tonight. She grinned back at him without thinking, and then her gaze shifted over to Sam. The former Navy SEAL was watching her with a mixture of approval and…was that pride?

Her smile faded as she realized he was thanking her, in his own way. She couldn't take too much credit, though. It wasn't as if she had lots of experience dealing with Callen, especially in this mood; in fact, she had virtually none. She'd simply recognized he was getting upset and done her best to distract him to let him calm down.

Apparently she'd made the right choice. She was fading though, and dimly realized he was tightening his hold on her arm because she was leaning against his side more heavily. She looked over at her arm, and was a bit frightened that the stain was spreading. She was in no mortal danger from the amount of blood lost so far, but it was making her tired and increasing the very real risk of shock.

Callen knew it, too. He'd probably known it was going to happen long before it actually did. "I'll meet you there," he told the others, wasting no more time in getting her out to his car. She had every intention of thanking him, but didn't stay conscious long enough to do so.

XXXXXX


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note:** I cannot tell you how overwhelmed I was with the response to this story. To those who reviewed, thank you so much, you don't know what it meant to me. I try to respond to each review, but this week was crazy with work so I didn't get the chance. To all who added this to their favorites or put it on alert, your support keeps me going. To those who simply read it, I'm incredibly glad you gave it a shot and I hope you enjoyed it.

**XXXXXX**

She didn't know where she was, but she knew someone was very close to her – too close to her.

She opened her eyes to find Deeks hovering fretfully over her. "I thought you were stirring, I noticed the change in your breathing patterns." He sounded triumphantly proud. The look on her face caused him to back up with such speed that he fell backwards into the chair next to her bed.

He tried to cover his discomfort with a slew of rapid-fire questions. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? I'm at your service," he said, and really, she felt bad, because he sounded truly eager to help her.

"I'm okay," she whispered, though she really wanted some water.

"Don't worry," he said, and he sounded reassuring until the next sentence out of his mouth: "I told them I was your husband." She blinked at him, and then started to laugh. He was joking. He had to be. She was sure of it.

His face remained serious, bordering on worried, as her laughter slowly faded. Oh God.

"You didn't," she whispered, the words coming out more as a hiss.

"They wouldn't have let me stay otherwise," he said, grasping her hand. "And Callen said I had to stay by your side, and if I didn't, then – " He abruptly broke off, thinking that Nell probably wouldn't be pleased to hear exactly how Callen planned to torture him if he let her out of his sight for an instant.

"My _husband_?" She tried to shriek, but her throat was too dry. "You could have just flashed your badge and said you weren't leaving!"

He considered that for a moment; it clearly hadn't dawned on him. "Yes, I could have."

Her reply, in which she would have threatened to painfully murder him, was interrupted by a nurse coming to check her vitals.

"You're doing quite well, no need to worry," the young woman said cheerfully, as she attached a blood pressure cuff to Nell's uninjured arm. "Just a mild case of shock, you'll be right as rain in no time."

Nell didn't understand how rain could be "right," but she was focused more on Deeks than the well-meaning platitudes of her nurse. "Husband," she scoffed, forgetting the nurse was listening to them.

At the other woman's confused look, Deeks quickly asked Nell, "Do you want something to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee?"

"I hate coffee," she snapped, letting her irritation at him shine through. "You should know that. Seeing as we're _married_."

Deeks laughed nervously and glanced at the nurse who was shaking her head in pity and handing Nell a glass of water. "My wife is very temperamental, especially when injured. Isn't that right...dear heart?"

Nell inadvertently inhaled her water and started coughing furiously. Deeks hit her on the back sharply, as if that would help (he watched too many movies) and she swatted his hand away furiously. "Don't touch me!"

"Oh honey, it's like our wedding night all over again," he said, forcing a laugh, as the nurse cast him one more strange look and then left the room, after making sure Nell was able to catch her breath again.

"What is wrong with you?" She muttered, making a conscious effort to slow her breathing and control any more urges to cough.

"Look," he said seriously, "I know you're not happy, but trust me when I say this was the best of a variety of unappealing choices."

"Being married to me is _unappealing_?"

He stared at the ceiling, counted to ten, and tried again. "Nell, Callen ordered me to keep an eye on you."

"And you're his little helper, doing anything and everything he says?" She scowled. Truthfully, she wasn't mad at Deeks, but at Callen, and for the mere fact that he wasn't there. It wasn't fair, she knew, but she couldn't help feeling the way she did. She thought that he'd basically told her he wouldn't leave her side; to find out that he had apparently left her at the first opportunity was...heartbreaking.

Deeks patted her hand in an attempt at reassurance, well aware it was the last thing she wanted – from _him_ at least. "I'm…sorry."

She swallowed hard and looked away from him, blinking back her tears. Where the hell had Callen gone? Had he just left her here upon realizing she had passed out? Did he see her as useless, or worse, a burden?

She certainly felt pathetic. Who passed out from a superficial gunshot wound to the arm! She must have been really tired, and the stress and pain had exacerbated her condition, what else could explain it?

Not to mention, where did she get off feeling sorry for herself? It wasn't like her, and she could only blame her self-pity on her injury. It was throwing off her judgment and causing her to act…decidedly unlike herself.

She tried to carefully move her arm, relieved when it responded, though it was quite painful.

Deeks was watching her closely. "You really are fine. It didn't do much damage. Most people wouldn't even need to be hospitalized…" he trailed off, apparently realizing his words didn't help her much.

She frowned at him. "Thanks, that makes me feel much better. I overreact so badly to _being shot_ that I have to be unnecessarily admitted to the hospital."

"I didn't mean –" He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Everything I'm saying is coming out wrong."

"And that's different from usual, how?" Kensi asked from the doorway, and they both turned to her; Deeks with impatient frustration, and Nell with relief. Maybe the other woman had some answers.

She bit back her first question (_Where's Callen?_) because it didn't make sense, even to herself. She hadn't yet justified her sudden obsession with him so that it would be acceptable in her _own_ mind. She highly doubted the others would understand it if she couldn't even explain it to herself.

That left asking about any leads they had. "Have you found anything?"

Kensi shook her head, clearly disappointed. "Not yet. How are you feeling?"

"Fantastic," Nell forced a smile. "Everyone tells me I'm fine and that my reaction to being shot was bizarre."

Kensi took a moment to try and glare Deeks to death. "That's not what anyone is saying. I was talking to your doctor before I came in here. First, you are going to be alright. Secondly, he said it's perfectly normal for some people to react to trauma the way you did. You're certainly not used to it – not the way the rest of us are. Plus, you lost a decent amount of blood, and you were exhausted. It's not surprising that you fainted. And that's _all _it was."

Nell didn't know if she believed her. She wanted to, but Kensi could simply be trying to make her feel better.

She didn't know if it mattered either way.

Nell was about to ask when she could go home when Kensi's phone rang. She stepped outside to answer it, and Deeks took the opportunity to try and fix things.

"I've thought about it from every angle, Nell, and I've decided the best course of action is to allow you to come home with me."

She was speechless for almost a full minute, and only his clear anticipation of her response spurred her to answer. "You…what?"

"You can't go home, someone could be after you," he said, somewhat rationally. "Therefore, I'll open my home to you."

She was about to start laughing again (it was either that or start screaming), when his next words disarmed her. "I'll keep you safe."

"That's not your job," she said softly, wondering at the strange urge she had to cry.

"It's all of our jobs," he said matter of factly. "We love you."

She couldn't respond to that in a steady voice. She did the next best thing, which was to get out of bed and hug him as hard as she could with her uninjured arm. He didn't know what to do for a few seconds, before deciding the best course of action was to simply hug her back.

"You really scared us," he said in a low voice, and she nodded, releasing him to sit back on her bed.

"I was really scared myself. We're even."

Kensi came back into the room, pausing for a millisecond as if she realized she had interrupted something, then forged on as she often did. "That was Sam, Eric called him – he's been scouring surveillance footage from around Callen's home and thinks he found something."

Before she could explain, another nurse came in to check on Nell. She took several minutes, during which Nell impatiently bit her tongue to keep from grilling Kensi more about Sam's phone call.

Once she was gone, right as Kensi was about to elaborate on Eric's find, the man himself walked into her room.

"Nell!" Eric exclaimed, "I've been worried sick. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, forcing herself to smile. Truth was, she felt far worse than she had upon waking a half hour earlier, and the only thing she wanted was more pain medicine. Well, that or to fall unconscious, maybe both.

Kensi was eyeing him suspiciously. "How did you get in here? Callen said no visitors were allowed before he left."

"Oh, that," Eric smiled sheepishly. "I told them I was your husband. The nurse looked at me strangely, then said she had to go check something. When she left, I just came down to your room."

Kensi rolled her eyes. "Great security this place has – would you excuse me?" She didn't sound that angry, but from the way she stormed out, it was clear she intended to give the entire staff hell.

Nell looked back and forth between Deeks and Eric. "What is wrong with you two? You're _federal agents_. You don't have to make up lies to get in to see me. And thanks for coming up with the same one, by the way, because _that_ doesn't make me look strange."

Eric immediately went on the defensive. "I had important information for you guys, I had to come up with something."

"What is it?" Deeks asked, cutting off Nell's next complaint.

Eric explained how he'd found a stolen black sedan in the vicinity of Callen's house near the time of the shooting, and from his research (angles and timing and process of elimination and a bunch of other stuff Nell tuned out because she was too distracted by her arm), he told them it was most likely the car the perpetrators had been driving. He'd put out an APB and also sent Sam and Callen the information.

"Where are they, anyway?" He asked, as Kensi returned. "They haven't checked in recently."

"Why would he?" Nell asked, sounding far angrier than she meant to. She blamed it on the pain. "I'm _fine_, right? That's what everyone keeps telling me. I'm sure he has better things to do."

Her words were met with stunned silence. It was Eric who bravely spoke first, if timidly. "Um…_he_?"

She inwardly cursed herself – Eric had been talking about both Sam and Callen, and she'd returned with a rant about _only_ their senior agent. Fantastic. "Never mind," she said, forcing herself to sound calm, though it was nearly impossible.

"I think you need some rest," Deeks said warily. Nell pretended not to notice the questioning glances the other three were passing amongst each other.

"Fine," she said, refusing to look at him.

Rest was the last thing she needed. She needed some pain medicine, and a way to vent her anger (for the first time she could remember, she wanted to punch something), and mostly she needed for the people who had shot at her, tried to _kill _her and Callen, to be in custody. Although, she wouldn't mind if they were dead either, and the thought was far darker than she thought she was capable.

She felt cold spread through her along with a newfound worry – she didn't seem to know herself much at all, lately. She was having strange thoughts, strange feelings…it was as if overnight she had fundamentally changed, and the person she was before was trying to reconcile the past her with this new version of her. And failing miserably.

"Throwing a party in here, huh?" A voice said from the doorway, and she turned so quickly it was a wonder she didn't get whiplash. Nell bit her lip to keep from lashing out and demanding to know where he'd been. She had no right to ask.

Callen wasn't oblivious to the strange tension in the room, as Eric, Kensi, and Deeks stood around mutely, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Nell stared at the blanket, absently pulling at it and pretending nothing was bothering her.

"Did I miss something?" He asked, and no one answered him. Alright, then. He tipped his head, an unsubtle gesture telling them to leave.

He'd never seen them flee a room with such speed, unless Hetty was the one doing the ordering.

"What's going on?" He asked, settling into the chair Deeks had vacated. It was a few feet from the bed and he didn't move it closer because she was obviously upset, and from the way she wasn't really looking at him, he had an inkling it might have to do with him.

She took too long to respond. The ticking clock on the wall sounded impossibly loud in the silence.

"Nothing," she said finally, when it became clear he wasn't going to leave until she answered him.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, it seems like nothing. You seem perfectly –"

"Do not say fine!" She erupted, shocking herself more than him. "I am not _fine!_" In her sudden rage, she took the cup of water the nurse had given her and threw it as hard as she could. Unfortunately, it was paper, and barely made a sound as it hit the wall; that only made her madder. She grabbed the plastic pitcher and threw that, as well. It caught the edge of a vase of flowers on the table across the room. Pitcher and vase both fell to the floor with a loud crash, glass scattering everywhere.

She stared in horror – she didn't even know who gave her those flowers. Kensi burst into the room, breaking her concentration. The woman was about to raise her weapon until she took in the scene. She shot a worried look at Callen, who only shook his head and waved for her to leave again. She did, slowly, but the worry on her face didn't disappear. Nell saw it in her own mind, even after the door closed behind Kensi.

She turned to Callen, who was watching her with a calmness that she knew was practiced. She wondered what he really thought of her outburst. Was he worried like Kensi? Or afraid she wasn't cut out to work with them? Maybe disappointed that she couldn't…she shut her eyes and didn't finish the thought.

In reality, all he wanted to do was hold her. Something about her made him want to take her far away, to a place where it was just the two of them, and he could protect her from the world. He inwardly smiled at what she might do to him if he tried.

He didn't ask why she'd done what she had; he simply waited.

The overwhelming outrage and feeling of injustice about the world that had led to her physical outburst had dissipated, but the sentiments that led to it were still there, under the skin, demanding release. "Someone shot at me tonight," she began. "They shot at us." Her voice was rising in pitch, her fury growing. "They tried to kill me. They tried to kill _us_! We could be _dead_ right now!" She turned to him in dismay. "Doesn't that infuriate you?"

It did far more than that, but he'd had years of practice controlling his emotions, and when that failed, he'd learned to compartmentalize them. If he reacted to everything the way he wanted, he'd be long dead by now. He wanted to explain that to her, but had no idea how. "Nell, I –"

She wasn't listening to him. In fact, she was halfway across the room, intent on picking up the flowers which could probably be saved. He reached her just in time, grabbing her around the waist. "Nell, that's glass," he reminded her, as she looked down at her bare feet.

Right, she could hurt herself. "I'll get my shoes, they must be around here." She tried to go find them, but Callen hadn't let go of her. "I want to pick up the flowers," she said impatiently.

"Nell –"

"Just let me," she argued, trying to pull away.

"You're more important than the flowers," he said, which stopped her efforts cold. While she processed that, he took advantage of her stillness to check the bandages on her right arm. It didn't appear she'd reopened any stitches; there was no blood.

When he moved her right arm, she belatedly realized what he was doing. "I didn't hurt it again. I threw with my other one."

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Yeah, I caught that."

"I was aiming for the door," she admitted sheepishly. The door was in the opposite direction of the table where the vase had been.

He looked at her incredulously, and she shrugged, then winced at the way the movement pulled at her stitches. He caught the distress on her face and it reminded him that it had been present since he walked in the room. Now he knew part of the reason why. "You're in pain," he murmured, gently running his hand down her right arm.

She let out a deep breath. She hadn't wanted to say anything, hadn't wanted to appear weaker than she already was. Since he saw it, though, there was no point denying it. "Yes, I am. Very much."

He didn't bother asking why she hadn't told anyone, because he had a few guesses. He pressed the call button on the bed to summon a nurse. "Do you feel better now?" He asked, referring to her sudden fit of anger.

She nodded, but there was something else in her eyes aside from exhaustion and pain from the shooting. It was fear he saw lingering in her eyes.

"We are going to find them," he promised, gripping her shoulders as much as he could without hurting her arm. He meant it, with everything he had in him. He needed her to understand that.

She shook her head, and he realized the fear he was seeing wasn't about the men out there. She was definitely afraid because of the shooting, but there was something much deeper lurking in her eyes.

If he wasn't mistaken, Nell was far more afraid of something else.

"Nell?" He asked, feeling his already immense worry for her grow exponentially.

"This isn't…" she swallowed, feeling herself start to choke up. As if this weren't bad enough already. "This isn't who I am," she managed. When her gaze strayed to the broken vase on the floor, understanding passed through him like lightning.

"We know that's not who you are," he said, his quiet words comforting her in a way that, she believed, in that moment, little else ever could have.

She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to reply, and looked up at him.

"_I _know that's not who you are," he whispered, leaning closer. "You're allowed to react, you're allowed to be furious, you're allowed to scream and throw things and hate the world."

She was already shaking her head in the negative. She was _not _allowed any of that. "My job requires –"

He cut her off. "Nell Jones…you're allowed to be human."

She felt a tear slide down her face, entirely against her will, and looked down at her feet to keep him from noticing. Seeing her own bare feet, inches from his shoes, she was struck again by their differences. She was in a hospital gown, laid up because of a wound that was (despite the pain) pretty superficial, and he was still dressed to work, obviously hadn't stopped all night.

She knew if he'd been the one shot tonight, he'd still be the same as he was now – ready to track down the shooters. He'd never be sitting in the hospital, waiting for the rest of his team to do the work for him.

Of course, that line of thought reminded her of the fact that he had been shot a few years ago, that he'd almost died. He very well could have, and she'd never have met him. Their team probably wouldn't exist, all of them scattered among NCIS in different capacities. They'd be with other, different teams.

She felt a sudden, squeezing tightness in her chest. She didn't _want_ to be anywhere else, on any other team, with other people. With him…not existing.

He hadn't moved, but she did, taking the last step forward to hug him, as well as she could with one functioning arm. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. All he did was wrap his arms around her and let her lean against him.

She was still furious with him for leaving her in the hospital, but she set it aside for the moment. She didn't want to ruin this. He was a warm, solid presence, and he reassured her by doing nothing at all. She blinked away more tears from her eyes. She'd never felt such peace simply by being near another person, touching them, existing with them together in the same space and time.

It was another one of the reasons why she was so afraid. She'd never relied on anyone before, in this way, and the fact that she did now – that these feelings had emerged unexpectedly, from nowhere – terrified her to her very soul. No one should be able to feel content with the world because of a single person in it. That was incredibly dangerous.

She had no idea what she felt, and she had no idea what to do about it.

"Nell?" He asked, and she actually welcomed the interruption in her thoughts, which were going in circles and leading her nowhere.

"Callen?"

"Are you…" he stopped himself from using the word 'fine' and she almost smiled, "…okay?"

"For the moment," she told him. And it surprised her to realize she actually meant it.

"Why wouldn't you look at me when I came in the room?" He asked, surprising her with his directness. She didn't know what to say, and even if she had, she didn't know if she'd have been ready to say it.

Instead, she opted to shake her head, blinking back more tears, which made her feel exponentially worse. She felt like she needed to cry and let go of all her emotions, but every time she started, she felt guilty about having those emotions in the first place. She was stuck.

He sensed her distress and closed the last few inches between them, resting his forehead on hers. "It's okay."

She had a flashback to his home, right after the shooting, when she'd longed to do the very same thing but been unable. She breathed in shakily, shutting her eyes and trying not to give herself away. Maybe he was only giving her – or himself – comfort. He probably wanted reassurance that she was fine. He probably loved her the same way Deeks had said earlier. She could not – would not – do anything to jeopardize that. But as they stood there, in the same space, breathing the same air, it took everything in her to stop herself from doing something she couldn't take back.

Apparently Callen didn't feel the same way, because he brushed a gentle kiss over her lips, then jerked away, putting himself between her and the door when he heard someone enter. He had much better reflexes than her, because she hadn't heard anything, and was only aware of someone in the doorway because of his actions.

The nurse standing there had her mouth open as if she'd been about to speak, but was shocked into silence. "I…you called?"

"Some time ago," Callen frowned, realizing it had taken a completely unacceptable amount of time for anyone to respond. "Nell needs more pain medicine." He relaxed, but hadn't let go of her; in fact, his words were spoken almost into her hair.

The nurse left and returned in record time with a couple pills for her. The other woman seemed awkward as she moved around the room, and even reluctant to get too close to her or Callen. As soon as Nell swallowed the pills, the nurse disappeared as quickly as she could.

"Was that weird?" Nell asked, as she got back into bed.

"She was acting pretty strange," Callen agreed. "Maybe she knew I was angry that it took forever for her to get in here. I'll have a talk with them."

"No, it was more than that. She couldn't even look at us," Nell said. "She was uncomfortable being in here with us. Almost as if she caught us doing something…inappropriate."

Callen gave her a look and she inadvertently blushed. "Not that we were! All I'm saying is, didn't it seem like she walked in on us…" she trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks. It didn't make sense, though, because all the woman might have seen was Callen's brief (friendly) kiss with her, and then him holding her, perhaps too closely, but nothing amiss for good friends, right?

She was about to chalk it up to something that would never be answered when Deeks reentered the room.

"Is everything alright in here?" He asked.

"Just fine," Callen said, picking up the flowers from earlier.

"The nurse just came out of the room as if it were on fire. What were you two doing in here?" Deeks asked, not bothering to hide his lascivious tone.

"Nothing," Nell insisted, as Kensi and Eric also came in, clearly concerned about her.

"Uh huh," Deeks said, not buying it. He paused a beat, then added, "Just so you know, Callen, when that nurse asked me earlier if you were family, I totally had your back. I told her you were Nell's brother."

Nell started laughing at the horrified look on Callen's face, because it was too ridiculous.

"What were you two doing in here?" Kensi asked, intrigued. She'd clearly seen Callen's dismay.

"Nothing remiss," Nell said quickly. "Though, if you're talking about siblings, then maybe it would seem…" she started laughing again at the memory of the nurse's face.

"The only reason I'm not going to kill you," Callen told Deeks evenly, "is because you made her laugh again."

"What's going on in here?" Sam demanded as he appeared in the doorway. "A nurse told me that I could find Nell in here with _both_ of her husbands and, I quote, 'her really, really close brother.'"

"Don't worry," Deeks said, in a tone which encouraged everyone to worry. "When she came out of your room, I told her that the love you two share can't be stopped by any moral bounds, not even those of society."

"We're eventually going to be kicked out of this hospital," Eric sighed, stepping to the side when Callen lunged for Deeks.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I hope this chapter lived up to expectations. I have an idea, but I'm not entirely set on where this story is going. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions of what you'd like to see later on. I appreciate your feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note:** Thanks to everyone who has given this story a shot. To all who have added it to favorites, reviewed it, put it on alert, or simply read it, I love you. I'm so happy that others get as much enjoyment reading this as I do writing it.

**XXXXXX**

_Present_

"For the 23rd time, I have to advise you against this," Kensi said, leaning against the wall of Callen's house as Nell worked to unlock his back door.

"I did take it under advisement."

"And chose to ignore me."

"Exactly," Nell said, cursing as the tumblers slipped and she had to try again.

"You do that a lot lately," Kensi remarked, glancing around, half hoping neighbors would see their suspicious behavior and call the police. It'd give her a legitimate excuse to stop Nell before she did…God knows what (Nell still hadn't clued her in, only said vaguely she had 'left something there').

"What?" Nell asked, looking up.

"You don't listen. Why is that?"

Nell didn't answer, and focused on the task at hand. She'd had to remove her sling to be able to use both hands, and it wasn't helping her injury. Turning her arm, she hissed as a jolt of pain shot through her. "You could help me here."

"I could, but I think this is a terrible idea. I only came because I knew you'd come without me and you shouldn't be alone when we still don't know who shot you," Kensi sighed, realizing that wasn't going to help her friend open up to her. "Where did you learn to pick locks?"

Nell froze, then shook her head. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"It's probably for the best," Kensi muttered.

Nell tried to clear her head and started again. Within moments, the lock clicked and she had to force herself not to shout for joy when she was able to open the door. She started searching, trying to remember where she'd last had her phone. It had been three days – some parts of that night were forever etched in her mind, others had completely disappeared. For instance, she couldn't remember the exact last place she'd used her phone, but she knew she had it when she'd gone to Callen's. She hadn't had it at the hospital. It stood to reason she left it here.

She distantly heard Kensi walking around the house, her footsteps echoing in the mostly empty rooms. "Why does he bother locking the doors? There's literally nothing here to steal."

"The better question is: Where is he?" Nell asked quietly, and if Kensi heard her, she didn't answer. "I'm looking for my phone," she added.

"We could have gotten you another one."

"Another one wouldn't be _my _phone."

Kensi shrugged and left to look around the rest of the house. About five minutes later she came back with Nell's phone. "This was in the bathroom on the floor, behind the door. I assume it's yours."

"You found it!" Nell grabbed it from her and quickly turned it on, grateful it still had battery power. She very pointedly ignored the smudges on the edge that she knew to be her blood.

Kensi was becoming more irritated by the second. "What's so special about your phone?"

Nell knew she probably shouldn't, but she had the feeling Kensi would do something drastic soon (like call Hetty) if she didn't at least give her a partial answer. Besides, she needed the other woman's help. "Eric modified it for me; through this I can access the computers back at headquarters."

Kensi eyed her suspiciously. "Is that legal?"

"It's…necessary when we're working on a case and I have to be away from ops."

"I'll take that as a no," Kensi sighed. "Disregarding the legality of it, I would assume it's only approved when you're actively working on a case. Which…" she trailed off, not wanting to speculate on what had happened between Hetty and Nell, but knowing it hadn't gone well. All she knew, from what Hetty had briefly told her, was that Nell was no longer officially working on their current case.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten," Nell said, not bothering to hide her bitterness. It surprised Kensi; she'd never heard that tone from her before.

"What are you doing?" Kensi asked, though she had a pretty good guess.

"Looking for Callen."

Kensi almost smiled; she would have won the bet. "He said he had to do something," Kensi reminded her. "He wouldn't even tell _Sam_ what it was. He'll be back."

Nell looked over at her, then quickly away. It didn't matter how brief the contact was; Kensi still saw something haunted in the other woman's eyes. "He better," Nell whispered.

"Nell –" Kensi began, but whatever reassurances she might have made were forever lost with the sudden loud banging on the front door.

"LAPD, open up!" Someone yelled, and Kensi quickly moved to open the front door before it was kicked down.

**XXXXXX**

_2 days earlier_

Sam stepped between Callen and Deeks. The last thing they needed was hospital security trying to break up a fist fight between two federal agents. "Let's take a step back until cooler heads prevail," he said, speaking to both of them, but directing his words solely at Callen.

"He's the one coming after me," Deeks argued, adrenaline still running at the prospect of a fight.

"Want me to list the reasons why?" Callen bit out. "First, you're supposed to be protecting Nell –"

"I _am_," Deeks said, "see her right there? She's okay and in one piece."

Callen went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Then you're telling the whole staff you two are married. And you," he turned to Eric, "same thing. What are you two thinking, or are you not thinking at all? Yeah," he scoffed, turning back to Deeks, "you're doing such a great job that _Eric _of all people can talk his way into the room in what, ten seconds?"

"Hey," Eric was clearly offended. "That isn't because of Deeks' ineffectiveness, it's because I'm a master of persuasion."

"You're a what?" Kensi asked. "That's not a thing."

"It is too a thing," he sounded suspiciously close to sulking. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be in here, would I?"

Callen was still furious. "Then you tell the staff that a man – who many of them haven't met yet, mind you – is going to be coming here, and to let him in because he's related to Nell? What if I was an assassin?"

"Then I'd probably be dead," Nell said matter of factly.

"This isn't a joke!" Callen yelled, turning to her.

"I didn't mean it as a joke. But you know what? You're not an assassin, and I'm perfectly safe. And I have complete faith that if someone _did_ show up here to kill me, Marty would be more than capable of protecting me from him."

Callen turned away, frustrated, and stalked to the opposite side of the room. He stared out the window, wondering why it was so hard to calm himself. They faced these situations all the time, on every case, and everyone knew the risks. More importantly, everyone knew how to protect themselves from those risks, and how to react in lethal situations. This time wasn't any different – he shouldn't be acting as if it were.

"You have complete faith in him, too," Nell said, her words quiet but determined, reaching everyone in the room. "Otherwise you would have never left him here with me, while you…" she broke off, still unsure where he'd gone, and irrationally angry with him over that fact.

He had to ignore the questions she had, at least for now. They were extremely clear, even though she hadn't voiced them out loud. "Fine, I will forget about everything – for now. Deeks, you and I will have a chat later. When Sam isn't around."

Deeks looked back and forth between the partners with growing panic. "No, let's have that chat now. I'd prefer now."

"You bet you would," Callen affirmed.

"This is getting us nowhere," Sam said, trying to remain the rational one. "Nell is right, and you know it."

Callen nodded. "You are right," he told Nell, then turned to Deeks. "But I still think it was the worst way to go about it that you could have come up with. Obviously no one in this hospital would believe you were married to Nell."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Deeks complained. "I can charm _any _woman."

"Oh wow," Kensi started laughing. "Next time you make up a claim like that, remember it can be easily disproved by half of the population."

"I don't know," Nell mused. "He's certainly not unattractive."

That brought the entire room to a standstill, as they stared at Nell, not quite sure they'd heard correctly.

"I'm just saying, Marty is a nice guy. It's not an impossibility," she smiled at Deeks who gave her a fake bow in appreciation.

"It is too an impossibility!" Callen exclaimed, bringing the much unwanted focus of the room to him instead. He forged on for lack of anything else to do. "I'm just saying I can't see Deeks with…" _you. He'd never understand you. Not like I do_. He couldn't say that. "…a girl like you."

"A girl like _me_?" Nell pursed her lips, wondering if she should be insulted.

He had a feeling he was digging his own grave, and for some reason he couldn't stop. "Yeah you're…you're…_Nell_." He tried to infuse as much feeling into her name as he could, hoping she'd get the message without him having to say it.

She must have gotten at least part of it from the way her eyes softened a bit.

And Nell did understand, at least she thought she did. Sort of. He was still cryptic, though, and he was making things too complicated. She couldn't blame him. It wasn't as if he'd had a lifetime of role models to teach him how to express his feelings.

Still, she didn't think she was asking that much.

She really hated arguing with herself, especially when she could see both sides of an issue. It was such a waste of time.

"What do you think, Nell?" Deeks asked. "Is Callen right? Could I never end up with –" he smartly stopped himself from saying 'you,' both because he was afraid of Callen's reaction and because although he truly cared about Nell, he'd never had any romantic feelings toward her. " – a girl like you?"

She caught the teasing glint of his eyes. The part of herself she was becoming more acquainted with (the darker part she didn't understand) told her to play along on the off-chance it would make Callen jealous.

"Actually, the jury's still out," Nell said, trying to sound charming (and sure she was failing). "What would you do to court me?"

"This is getting weird," Eric muttered, edging toward the door.

"First, I would take you back to the 1800's when the term 'courtship' had a much stricter societal definition –"

"Ah right, the foundation of our modern term 'dating'," Nell said, smiling. "If you're looking for ideas, I like candy. And flowers."

"What's your favorite kind? I'm partial to chrysanthemums –"

Kensi held up her hand, more than aware of Eric's discomfort, Sam's exasperation, and, most importantly, Callen's increasing agitation. "As fascinating as this is, I'm going to stop you right there. We don't need a history lesson on courtship. In fact, we shouldn't be discussing that topic, and certainly not in regards to the two of you, _ever_."

"Amen," Callen muttered; he'd started pacing again. He had no idea what was going on with Deeks and Nell. Had he somehow been so oblivious that he'd _missed_ an obvious attraction between them? Maybe they were secretly dating and he simply hadn't picked up on it. The very thought made him want to punch the wall, or Deeks. No, definitely Deeks.

"G," Sam began, "we have a lead now with the car Eric found. We'll get a hit." Nell couldn't tell if Sam genuinely thought Callen's distress was due to a feeling of helplessness about their current situation. From his words, it seemed like it, but knowing Sam, she guessed he was trying to give his partner a way to explain his aggravation.

Nell both regretted that she was causing him distress and delighted in the fact that she'd gotten a reaction out of him. The latter made her feel cold, despite the fact that he'd disappeared for a good portion of the night and had yet to tell her where he'd gone.

No matter what he did, she couldn't justify harassing him. Not after he'd saved her life. And certainly not after he'd probably run through the night a thousand times in his head, thinking of the 'what if's' and realizing how close they'd both come to dying.

She had no way of knowing that twenty minutes later she'd forget about her remorse and dedicate her immediate future to making his life a living hell.

**XXXXXX**

_Present_

"You get to explain to Callen why we were detained for breaking into his house," Kensi told her, as Nell pretended not to hear her.

They were in the back of a squad car, being 'escorted' to the nearest police headquarters. Kensi hadn't been able to talk their way out of it, despite her desperate pleas and numerous flashes of her badge. They weren't officially arrested, just being brought in for questioning.

Nell knew they should have been arrested, because technically they'd broken the law, but she didn't think it should be a crime to reclaim your own property if it was in the possession of someone else.

Although to be fair, said person hadn't stolen her phone, or even known he'd 'had' it, so to speak. If he ever answered _his_ phone, the entire situation could have been avoided. Instead, from what she'd seen before the police arrived, Callen had turned off his own phone and she had no way to reach him or track his location. He was crafty, she'd give him that.

"I'm not getting blamed for this," Kensi added, not so much worried as trying to get a response from Nell.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know, come up with an explanation that gets them to release us without having to notify anyone at NCIS about what we were doing tonight."

"That's pretty unlikely," Nell said. She racked her brain, trying to decide what to do. "I'll try Callen again, maybe he'll pick up this time."

"Ha, not likely," Kensi shook her head. "You've left him, what, a half dozen messages? And he hasn't responded to a single one. So I doubt he will this time."

"Actually, it was nine…" Nell half-coughed, aware that made it sound worse.

"Why is he ignoring you, anyways?"

Nell stared at her hands; that was a question she'd asked herself many times over the past two days. "We didn't exactly leave each other on the best terms," she admitted, although that didn't fully explain it. Sure, she and Callen hadn't agreed on the next course of action to take, but she had no idea why he'd outright ignore her messages.

As time passed, she was becoming more uneasy about the entire situation. Either he was far angrier at her than she'd suspected, or something had happened to him. Neither option eased the growing dread she felt every time she thought about him.

**XXXXXX**

_2 days earlier_

The room cleared soon after her inward, meaningless promise to herself to try and keep Callen from hurting whenever she possibly could. Perhaps the others sensed the two of them needed some time alone.

Nell had been hopeful, too, that Callen might finally talk to her. _Really _talk to her, away from the superficial conversations they always had; away from endlessly revolving around the shooting incident, which provided him with a great excuse to never discuss anything more important. Not that their lives weren't important, but there was something else going on that she couldn't deal with.

Because she didn't know _how._

She didn't know if he had any clue what was going through her mind half the time, or if he was oblivious. Sometimes she thought he knew, and that he felt the same. Other times, it seemed as if he had no idea, or that he outright rejected it.

And really, if he had no idea, she knew she should keep it that way. The last thing either of them needed was to engage in something that would complicate both their personal and (more importantly) their professional lives.

But God, how she _wanted _to. And really, she wondered if they weren't both involved already, even if it had never been officially stated or acknowledged.

He ended all her hopes of gaining any clarification with one sentence. "There's something I have to do."

She knew that look, knew that tone. "No, Callen."

"You have to stay here," he said, confirming her suspicions.

"I don't want to stay here."

He sighed; he felt terrible about this, but there was no other option. "This...what I have to do…" he wanted to reach out to her, but didn't think he could deal with it if she refused him. "I have to do it alone."

She shook her head in absolute denial, tears forming in her eyes that she refused to shed. Didn't he get that he didn't have to be alone anymore? "You don't."

He looked away from her, putting a few more steps between them for good measure. "But I do."

"Callen –"

"Nell, you have to stay here."

"No!" She cried, wanting to shake him, to force him to see reason.

"Yes," he said grimly. "I have to see this…thing through. And you're staying here."

His words were final. She knew he'd make sure she followed them as best he could. If he had to lock her up, she had no doubt he'd do it.

An inward peace came over her and she resolutely met his eyes. "Fine."

"Hear me out, Nell. I only want – wait, what?"

"I said fine. I'll stay here."

He studied her with suspicion. "You don't mean that."

She swallowed, tried to tell herself it wasn't a lie, because maybe if she believed it, he would, too. "I do mean it."

"That's too easy, the Nell I know –"

"Maybe you don't know me," she broke in, letting her hurt and anger show. It helped her hide. "Maybe you don't know me at all."

He took another step back, assessing her with the indifferent attitude she had come to associate with the capable NCIS agent he was. "Maybe you're right. That still doesn't mean I believe you, though. I hope you understand that I have to assign someone to watch you."

Actually, she didn't understand at all. In fact, she wanted to throttle him. Instead, all she did was nod. "That makes sense."

He took a few steps toward the door, then paused, as if he wasn't sure of something. Maybe he was sensing how terribly he'd handled the situation. Maybe it was more than that. Whatever it was, it made him turn back to her and say, with as much force as she'd ever heard him say anything: "This isn't over, Nell Jones."

He left before she could close the distance between them, before she could hold onto him for all she was worth and tell him that he was damn right, it wasn't over.

And if he never returned, she would never forgive him for denying her that.

**XXXXXX**

_Present_

Kensi crossed her arms and turned to Nell where they were sitting on a bench in the LAPD headquarters. Nell had a fleeting wonder about what would happen if they tried to get up and walk out. She guessed it would end with a holding cell, or two.

"Have any ideas?" Kensi sounded pissed, and Nell didn't blame her. But still…

"I didn't force you to come with me. You did that on your own."

"Because I was worried about you," Kensi argued. "You know that."

Nell deflated a bit. "I know, and I'm grateful. Truly."

Kensi found her own anger diminishing at the very real worry on Nell's face. "Maybe Sam –"

"I tried, he didn't answer his phone, either," Nell said. She wondered if he was helping Callen with whatever he had to do.

"Or Deeks? Of everyone, he has the most ties here."

"I left him a message, too," Nell said. "I think he'll come if he gets it, but…"

"What is with everyone ignoring their phones?" Kensi said with frustration.

Nell shrugged. "They do have to sleep sometime," she said, referring to the fact that it was a little after 3 AM.

"That's no excuse!" Kensi snapped.

"I'll call Hetty," Nell said, without thinking it through. Then she inwardly groaned. Sure enough, Kensi quickly called her on it.

"You will, will you? Good luck with that," Kensi said, laughing humorlessly. "I'm sure she'll love getting a call from you about how you broke into Callen's house while he wasn't home, in order to retrieve your phone, so that you could access the government's computers and try to track him down."

Nell felt physically sick recalling her encounter with Hetty. She really had nowhere left to turn. "When you put it that way…maybe you should make the call."

Kensi was about to ask an officer if she could do so when her partner walked through the doors.

"What illegal thing did you two do now? And why didn't you invite me to watch it?" Deeks asked, trying not to smirk at the sight of Kensi and Nell being held by the LAPD.

"Just shut up and get us out of here," Kensi said, in a tone that implied dire consequences if he stalled one moment longer.

Deeks' smile disappeared and he went to talk to the sergeant. Twenty minutes later, they were both released and the three of them stepped out into the cool night air.

"Can't say I never did anything for you," Deeks told Kensi.

"Yeah, I can," she assured him. "But…thanks."

"Least I could do," he said, glancing over at Nell. "Is everything alright with her?" He whispered to Kensi.

Kensi looked over at Nell who was on her phone, the police having released it back to her. She sighed morosely. "Not even close. You got Nell's message?"

"No, actually – at least, not until after. Callen called me an hour ago to tell me you two were being detained."

Nell heard that and turned on Deeks with a speed of which he hadn't known she was capable.

"He got my message and called _you_ instead of coming here himself?"

Deeks smiled nervously. "He's busy with…something. He wanted to come."

"Sure he did," Nell said, and once again Kensi winced at the bitter tone of the younger woman.

"Really, he's –" Deeks stopped short, aware he'd made a fatal mistake.

Nell and Kensi both stopped, Nell turning on him with unconcealed fury. "You better finish that statement."

Deeks looked desperately toward Kensi, begging silently for a way out. His partner merely folded her arms and regarded him with a cold gaze that told him if he didn't answer the other woman, he'd forever regret it. He cursed the tendency of women to stick together.

"Fine, but you can never tell him that I told you," Deeks begged.

"I'll be the one to decide that," Nell told him.

He considered his current predicament against any future problems he'd have with Callen, and the present won out. He was terrified of what the other man might do to him, but when faced with Kensi and Nell's combined determination, he really had no choice but to tell them what Callen had said.

After all, he could only come up with a plan for the future if he saved himself in the present.

A few minutes later, after hearing what Deeks had to say, Nell made up her mind. "I'm going to find him. You two are welcome to come along if you want."

"Wait, what about Hetty?" Kensi asked, hoping the mention of the older woman's name would spark reason in Nell. Her hopes backfired, though, with Hetty's name only solidifying the younger woman's determination

"What about her?" Nell asked, without inflection. "I'll deal with that when the time comes." She walked away without waiting for an answer.

"I don't like this, Kensi," Deeks said, quickening his pace to keep up with the determined analyst. "What happened between her and Hetty?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Kensi admitted. "But it was nothing good."

**XXXXXX**

_2 days earlier_

After Callen left, Nell returned to her bed, trying to formulate a plan on how to get out of the hospital, and more importantly, find him.

Her plans were interrupted when Hetty came to see her.

"Miss Jones, it's a relief to see you're doing well."

Nell snapped her head up. Her insides felt as if they turned to stone, and she wondered how the hell she was going to explain her way out of this one.

As if Hetty anticipated her explanations (_excuses_, Nell's inner voice whispered), she continued before Nell could speak. "The doctors tell me you should recover quickly."

"Yeah, that's what they say," Nell said, proud that her voice remained steady even as she was shaking inside.

"Then I look forward to your release from the hospital," Hetty said, reassuringly.

Under any other circumstances, Nell might have allowed herself to relax. However, she knew she'd disobeyed Hetty's direct orders, and that the older woman, as compassionate as she was, would not simply ignore such a breach of protocol.

"I have reviewed the circumstances of the shooting," Hetty began, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as if she didn't want to go on. But she did. "I have decided the best course of action is to allow you a medical leave to recover."

Nell shut her eyes. She was no idiot – she understood all too well that Hetty was trying to lessen the blow. She didn't fault the woman for it; she had to do her job. Still, that didn't mean that Nell agreed with it.

"I did what I had to do."

"You did what you _thought _you had to do," Hetty corrected. "You visited Agent Callen when I expressly told you to have no contact with him during his personal leave. You intended to share with him details of the current case the team is working. You put both yourself and Agent Callen in danger, and either or both of you could have paid for that recklessness with your lives."

Nell knew that already, but to hear Hetty say it was like a physical blow. She couldn't deny it anymore. She had endangered both of them. It was sheer luck that they had come through the shooting relatively unscathed. "I know," she whispered.

"Furthermore," Hetty continued, her voice flattening as if the next words were distasteful to her. "I'm ordering you to stay away from Agent Callen."

"What?" Nell asked, genuinely confused.

"At least until we resolve the shooting," Hetty clarified. "One of you is putting the other in danger. Or maybe you're both targets. The fact is, we don't know, and it's safer for you two to stay apart. You may not like it –"

"That's ridiculous!" Nell exclaimed. How dare Hetty dictate who she did or didn't see on her own personal time? This had nothing to do with a case, or Callen's personal leave. Their boss simply didn't want them to contact each other, period. And why?

Hetty's next words answered Nell's unasked question. "Frankly, Miss Jones, I'm not blind. I know that the relationship between you and Agent Callen has entered…unfamiliar territory. You two are closer than you were in the past. It is that personal involvement that puts both of you in unnecessary danger. If you're both too concerned with…" she shook her head, as if rethinking her words. "That's why I'm telling you to stay away from each other until this thing is resolved. I think that's safest."

Nell had never considered openly defying Hetty before. Sure, she'd visited Callen against Hetty's orders, but she had convinced herself that was barely a breach; she was simply checking up on her friend. However, in that moment, after Hetty told her to stay away from Callen, she wanted to find a target on which she could take out her anger. She wanted to scream that Hetty had no say in her personal life. She wanted to destroy the hospital room. She wanted to find Callen and stand with him as they both told Hetty that neither of them would let their personal lives be controlled by their jobs.

She wanted to quit.

Hetty must have read her face. "Miss Jones," the older woman came closer to the bed, placing her hand on Nell's uninjured arm. "I am truly grateful that you are alright. I don't know what I'd do if you or Agent Callen –" she stopped, apparently some things too terrible for even Henrietta Lange to contemplate. "But I can't ignore what you did. I hope you understand I'm not doing this to punish you. I'm doing it to protect you. Both of you."

To Nell, the two things were interchangeable. And she couldn't hide her hatred of the order, was all too aware it flashed across her face, visible to anyone, and especially to the woman in front of her.

"Please, don't misunderstand me," Hetty tried again.

"You don't have to worry about me staying away from Callen," Nell said, cold fury coating her voice. She'd never encountered a more unfair situation in her life. "He already made it clear that he's gone off on his own and that I'm expected to sit here and do nothing."

"Miss Jones – Nell – I hope that –"

"You can go," Nell cut her off.

Hetty looked as if she regretted her earlier words. She said nothing more, simply turned and left the room.

Nell stared at the door for a long time after Hetty left. The rest of her team had gone through that door, followed by Callen, and now Hetty. Everything she thought she knew had changed. She had no idea what to do next. Furthermore, she didn't know if anything she did would make a difference. Callen wanted to be alone, he'd made that abundantly clear. And for some reason, everything she did lately had to do with _him_. Where did that leave her?

She was completely lost.

It was only because she was alone in the room that she allowed herself to cry.

**XXXXXX**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took me much longer than I intended! Thanks to all readers and reviewers, I truly appreciate it. I really had no idea where I was going with this story when I first posted it, so I hope it's going somewhere remotely plausible.

**XXXXXX**

"You don't listen," Callen told her, but his eyes never left the man 20 feet from them.

"Correction, Agent Callen, it is _you _who doesn't listen," Nell said smartly, "thus forcing _me _to disobey the orders of our direct superior." She was proud she sounded so calm, despite her inward terror.

He risked a quick glance over at her. "We're back to 'agent' then, are we?"

"We never left it," she said, smiling without humor.

"Who is she?" The man on the opposite side of the room demanded. Since he held a gun, they were both very inclined to listen to _him_.

"She's my…associate," Callen replied carefully.

Because Callen was trying to protect her, she resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

"Associate?" The man asked, assessing her. "Another agent then, yes?"

Nell looked back and forth between them. Despite his vaguely threatening demeanor (and the gun) the other man didn't seem _that _menacing. And Callen was trying to tell her to stay quiet. God knows she'd seen that look a thousand times before. "Yes, in a manner of speaking," Nell said, solely because the man was looking at her expectantly.

"Your name?"

She couldn't outright refuse, though another glance at Callen's rigid stance told her that he was none too happy with the other man's interest in her. "I'm Nell."

"Nell," he said slowly, trying it out. "I'm Mikael. What a delightful name you have. "

"Thanks?" She said, and it came out more as a question even though she simply meant to cut off his questions cold.

"How did you find me, Nell?" Callen demanded, and it was more to distract Mikael from her presence than anything else.

She debated what to tell him. He wouldn't like anything she had to say. "I have my methods," she finally said, ducking her head. She heard Mikael laughing and guessed Callen was trying not to scream at her.

"I told you to stay behind. I _told _you to wait until I came back –"

"Which is what you _always _do!" She exclaimed, absently touching her arm which was still in a sling. She would ignore, for the moment, that she was arguing with her boss who had given her a direct order. After all, orders had meant nothing to her lately. "What was I supposed to do? Sit around? Wait until someone called to tell me that you were _dead_? No thanks, Callen!" She was breathing heavily by the end – until she had said it, she was entirely unaware they were words that needed to be said.

He took a moment to try and compose himself, and failed miserably. "It was not your call," Callen hissed, taking a step toward her.

"Yeah?" She snapped. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, it wasn't yours, either."

Callen shook his head, deciding to change tactics. "Alright, you followed me. But you couldn't even exercise _some _caution and wait for me outside?"

She shrugged, knowing he probably wouldn't like her answer: it simply hadn't occurred to her to wait. She would come up with a better reason, then. "It didn't…_seem_ like a threatening situation?"

Oh no, even she knew that was too terrible to be considered an excuse.

"It's a rundown warehouse in the middle of nowhere, Nell," he stared at her, aghast. "What do you consider _threatening_?"

"Um…that guy?" She nodded toward Mikael.

"I'm flattered," Mikael said, smiling at her.

She smiled back weakly. "If you'd been outside the building, I definitely would have thought twice about following Callen inside."

Callen pressed his hand to his temple as if he were getting a headache. "You should have thought twice anyways! Where's your sense of self-preservation?"

She had to think about that, and when she did, she knew it was another answer he wouldn't like. When it came to him, self-preservation took a decided backseat to making sure he was alright. Not that she was much help to him, especially in a situation like this.

Then again, they were still alive. That was something. Maybe she was making a difference! She could successfully distract Mikael with her delightfully charming demeanor, he'd think she was too wonderful to kill, and he'd let her and Callen go with a warning.

And to think Callen had been furious when he saw her (well, by 'saw' she actually meant 'heard her accidentally knock over a stack of milk crates', despite her attempts to be stealthy – something she decidedly wasn't). But the fact remained, she'd basically, singlehandedly, saved both of their lives, and –

"I'm going to kill you both now," Mikael said, bringing her self-adulation to a dead halt.

"What?" She yelled, barely noticing Callen moving slowly toward her. Mikael was pointing the gun at her, but instead of being afraid, she only felt numbness.

"I said –"

"I know what you said," she snapped. "It's just…you can't do that."

"And why not?" He asked.

"Because…I don't want you to."

In response, he merely quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. Yeah, it was a lame reason to him. But to her it meant everything.

"No one is killing anyone," Callen interjected, holding out his hands in supplication.

Mikael turned his attention to the agent. "Are you ready to answer me now?" He turned the gun on Callen, and Nell started to panic. Why had she been so calm when he pointed it at her, but now that it was on Callen, she felt like her heart was going to stop from pure terror?

"I'll ask you one last time, as I did before the lovely Nell arrived, what are you doing here?"

Callen shook his head in refusal of the question. "Don't play innocent. You already know."

Mikael tsked and, if it were possible, his eyes grew colder. "Perhaps I wasn't clear," he said, turning the gun back toward Nell, even as his words were directed solely at Callen. "_What are you doing here_?"

Callen's body must have been operating on an unconscious level, because he was only aware that he'd taken a step toward Nell because of the way Mikael glared at him, and moved closer to Nell himself. He knew Mikael, and had no doubt the other man would kill Nell, if only to get answers from him.

"Don't," Callen breathed, amazed he was able to get the word out when he was pretty sure he could no longer breathe.

Mikael's smile was like ice, and though he was a cold son of a bitch, both Callen and Nell could recognize that he was enjoying this. "Don't worry, Agent Callen. Whether I hurt the lovely NCIS Agent is entirely up to you. Are you going to answer me or not?"

"I'm here because of you," Callen said, talking as quickly as possible in hopes of distracting Mikael. "I – Nell and I were shot at several nights ago. I want to know if it was on your orders."

At his words, Mikael started laughing, so heartily that he lowered his gun and stopped focusing on Nell. Callen took advantage of Mikael's amusement to close the distance between him and Nell, automatically putting his arms around her. If he were honest, it was to reassure himself as much as it was to reassure her.

He pretended not to notice that she was shaking, and swore to God if they got out of this, he would eventually put a bullet in the head of Mikael Novak.

"Surely you're jesting, right Agent Callen?" Mikael asked, apparently not caring that Callen had moved. "Let me assure you, if I had ordered a hit on you, you would not be alive to ask me about it."

Callen sighed, dropping his head to Nell's shoulder. He had guessed as much from the surprise on Mikael's face when he initially confronted him. "I guess it was too much to hope for," he muttered, and Mikael could barely make out his words.

"How, exactly, did you think coming to see me would work in your favor, if I were really out to kill you?" Mikael asked, too intrigued at the strange reasoning to resist asking the question.

"I wanted to make a deal," Callen said, which was the truth. And now he wished it had been Mikael Novak who had been behind the attempt on their lives, because he probably could have gotten out of it by making a deal with the man's family. Now that he knew they weren't involved, it meant he had to keep searching – and looking over his shoulder, wondering if someone were out to finish the job.

"A deal?" Mikael had to smile at the other man's audacity – not many would brazenly walk up to the person they suspected of trying to murder them. "You are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Yes, I could see how this 'deal' that you speak of might have worked, but still, it took a lot for you to come here, didn't it? And with your girlfriend no less? I almost admire you."

"With my _what_?" Callen asked, as Nell huffed and shoved him away in aggravation. Of course he would find Mikael's _wording_ the most objectionable part of this encounter.

Mikael merely shook his head. "I'm going to give you a pass this time, simply because you've amused me."

Callen wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing that the real reason he and Nell weren't going to be thrown in the Pacific was because Mikael would have to face the consequences of his family if he took such a drastic measure without their approval.

"You're saying that –" Nell abruptly broke off when Callen gripped her arm.

Mikael smiled, entirely without amusement, despite his earlier proclamation. "You can leave here knowing that it wasn't your family's enemies who called a hit on you. And for the simple fact that they would have ensured it was carried through. Surely you're not that dense, Agent Callen."

Callen stopped himself from replying as he grabbed Nell's hand and practically dragged her out of the building in his eagerness to get away from Mikael. He knew he'd been borderline-crazy to meet with the man alone, but now that he knew Nell had followed him? He was nearly beside himself at the danger he'd unintentionally put her in.

The old Nell never would have tracked him down, she would have waited until he came back; she would have listened to him. He didn't know when, or why, she had changed, but this new version of her was constantly doing things he couldn't predict. Like showing up at his house in the middle of the night when he was taking a personal leave, and she'd been explicitly told to stay away from him. He should have known better than to tempt her by ordering her to stay behind.

"I'm sorry, Nell," he said, scanning the area once they were outside. He could hardly believe that Mikael had simply let them leave – then again, the man had no reason to pursue them. It was, after all, Callen who had tracked _him _down.

They were in an alley and she shrugged, as if she had done nothing out of the ordinary. It was infuriating, but he didn't react; he was afraid anything he did lately might push her further away.

"I thought you might need me," she said, which wasn't the truth at all. She'd been terrified, actually, that he might be doing something that could endanger his life. That had led to her using every resource she had (and every resource she could force Eric to use) to figure out where he might have gone. Deeks had given them the starting point a few days earlier, with the name Mikael Novak (Callen must have been having a careless moment to actually give _Deeks,_ of all people, a name).

They'd gotten lucky with the information that Novak, a sworn enemy of Callen's birth family, had entered the U.S. a few weeks earlier. From there, they'd narrowed down Novak's known associates, and had agents trail them until they found his hide-out. From there, it was only a matter of staking out the warehouse until Callen had, inevitably, shown up. And she'd breathed a thanks to God when he had, because if he hadn't, she'd had no other viable leads to pursue.

"You do realize that you took twenty years off my life when you showed up?" Callen asked, referring to how she'd walked in when he'd been arguing with Novak, as if it were nothing unusual for her to randomly appear in the last place anyone would expect.

"Consider it payback for how you left me behind, for the seventeenth time," she said, trying to hide her bitterness and failing miserably.

"Come on, it was hardly seventeen," he said.

"It doesn't matter how many times it was," she argued. "It's that you don't trust me."

He shook his head slowly. "You've got it all wrong. You're one of the few people that I absolutely trust. It's just too dangerous for you to come with me. You're not trained for this kind of thing, Nell."

"Oh and _you are_?" She asked, incredulously. "I didn't know you were trained for meeting with a personal enemy of your family who you suspected of trying to kill you. With no back-up, by the way, and without telling anyone where you were going."

He merely stared at her, for he had no argument. The fact was, she told the truth, and they both knew how risky it had been for him. It was incredible that he was walking away from the meeting with nary a scratch to show for it. "I didn't really think it through," he admitted. The fact that he hadn't thought it through because of his anger that _she _had almost been killed went unsaid.

And from the look on his face, she most certainly knew what he was thinking. "Callen, I'm…"

"Alright," he laughed, though it was forced. "I know that."

She swallowed, trying to meet his eyes, but to her dismay, he wouldn't look at her. "Do you?"

He gently touched her bandaged arm which was still in a sling. "I do know. That doesn't mean that it's okay."

"I didn't die," she said firmly. "And neither did you. That means we go on."

"Nell…" he whispered, his thought going unfinished when he pulled her in for a hug.

She hugged him back as well as she could with one good arm, and tried desperately to think of what she might say that would comfort him. The problem was, she'd already said it all. And there was more here, something she'd been missing. The way he'd looked at Mikael Novak…it stirred something in her that made her uneasy.

He leaned back and absently brushed some hair away from her eyes. He must have seen the look on her face, and known what she was wondering. "He's my cousin," Callen half-laughed, but she heard the fear in those words.

It was in that moment that she understood his worst fear. It wasn't death – it wasn't even close.

She stared at him until he had no choice but to meet her gaze. "I know what you're thinking," she said softly, "but who he is has nothing to do with who you are."

To cement her words she leaned in to kiss him. He was completely surprised, meeting her lips for the briefest time before pulling away.

It wasn't enough, not nearly. "You are _not_ him," she swore fiercely, pulling him back for a real kiss, determined to distract him however she could.

Unfortunately, instead of distracting him, she ended up conveying her feelings for him far more than she could have with words. And that was something she hadn't meant to do – not now, maybe not ever. But it was too late to think about that, and for a few moments she forgot everything except the feel of him. In that span of time, if she had been questioned about who she was, or who he was, or what they were doing, she could have done nothing more than respond with a blank stare.

It was Callen who finally pulled back gently, because she was so reluctant to let him go that she might have held onto him forever. Reality came flooding back, but rather than making her want to distance herself, it only made her want to hold onto him tighter.

"He and I…" Callen tried to explain, trailing off. "We're family, you don't understand –"

"Blood means nothing. _Nothing_. Not when you share it with a man like him," she said fiercely. She had read Novak's file, too, and if there was anything she was sure of in this world, it was that Callen was the complete opposite of Mikael Novak.

"Nell –"

"You are not any of your relatives," she said, unwilling to hear his arguments. Her voice dropped to a whisper, though it was still impossibly loud to him. "You are your own man."

"I don't…"

"You are more than all of them put together."

In response he shut his eyes and held onto her as tightly as he could. In fact, the force of it hurt, but she reveled in it, because she wanted to be as near to him as she could.

And not just now.

Always.

The word came from nowhere, and she started, leaning backwards to stare at him, somewhat in wonder.

"Nell," he began, feeling he owed her an explanation – of what, he didn't know. Who he was, why he acted as he did, or maybe how it was possible he had such terrible family ties – but she cut him off by pressing her finger to his lips.

"G…Callen," she smiled, thinking how strange it was to use his 'first' name. "There is nothing you can say to explain this sufficiently. What we have…what we are…I don't know where it came from, and I don't know why. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe there is no explaining it."

No, he thought, pulling her as close to him as possible, maybe there was no explaining it. If there _were _some real world explanation as to why he felt this way about her (and she about him) he didn't know if he wanted to hear it; that would acknowledge the possibility that it might never have been.

**XXXXXX**

"This has nothing to do with your family?" Eric asked, yet again. He was having trouble believing it.

"I'm telling you," Callen said, "if it did, Mikael would have known. And there's no reason for him to lie to me. In fact, I got the feeling that he wished this did have to do with my family, so he could have the pleasure of telling me. Or finishing the job himself."

Eric sighed. "That means whoever shot at you was probably someone connected to our current case."

"What about our past cases?" Kensi asked.

Eric nodded. "That's also a possibility, but it begs the question of why someone would wait this long before taking their revenge. It's more likely that someone connected to our current case is the shooter."

"You weren't even on the most recent case, G," Sam reminded him. "Since you were on leave. That means whoever shot at the two of you followed Nell to your house."

Callen looked at Nell who met his glance with an unfazed look of her own. He wished that she were more scared, because he would have felt better if she admitted the danger she was in. Since she apparently didn't, he had to stay as close to her as possible until they solved the shooting.

Callen ran his hands over his face, remembering the files he'd read earlier, but they only told half the story. "Refresh me on the recent case."

"We were investigating the murder of NCIS agent Derek Smith," Deeks said, his voice conveying his discomfort with how close the case hit to home. "He was cheating on his wife with at least one woman, possibly more. We haven't determined whether he was murdered by his wife or a lover out of jealousy, or by someone completely unrelated to his personal issues."

Nell nodded, remembering how she'd been intent on briefing Callen on the case when she went to his home a week earlier. "We were going in circles and couldn't find any answers. That's why I went to see you last week." She refrained from adding that the real reason she'd gone to see him had nothing to do with the case, despite what she had since claimed.

He stared at the screens, trying to put it together in his head. Nell stood only a foot away from him, and he found himself distracted by her mere presence. That was new, but he couldn't say it was entirely unwelcome.

"Have you interviewed Smith's wife and mistress?"

Sam nodded. "Nothing from either of them. Both deny any knowledge of his recent work for naval intelligence."

"He was working on a new chemical weapon, a nerve agent similar to sarin gas that kills instantly," Deeks informed him. "And not pleasantly."

The last comment was decidedly unnecessary, since anything close to sarin would be unpleasant by nature. Callen glanced at Nell, wishing she would acknowledge him in some way. She merely stood unmoving, staring resolutely at the computer screens.

Eric started prattling on about the last known locations of Smith's wife and mistress, saying how it was unlikely – but not impossible – that they had been behind his death. Callen listened, but the entire time, his focus was on their junior analyst.

She moved slightly toward him during Eric's explanation, and it was so casual that he didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not. By the time Eric was finished, he and Nell were mere inches apart.

"Deeks, Kensi, get on the wife and mistress, interview them again and look for any inconsistencies in their stories," he ordered. Nell turned to him worriedly, clearly wondering if one of the women were behind the shooting that had nearly killed them.

He didn't wait for any kind of sign; in his mind, her being _right there_ was enough of a sign for him to reach out and put his arms around her. He held his breath, letting it out slowly when she leaned back against him in response, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, when in reality it was quite odd (probably even unacceptable – not that he was going to look into the guidelines) for two NCIS agents. But the fact was, he didn't care; he didn't care what the rest of his team thought, and, for the first time in a long time, he didn't care what Hetty thought. The only thing he cared about was if Nell were alright, and if she needed him to get through this, he would willingly oblige her.

He had no idea when she'd become so necessary to him that he'd overlook the rules of his job, but it didn't matter.

Deeks and Kensi looked at them strangely, but didn't comment as they nodded and left to track down the two women. Sam pursed his lips, but wisely kept his mouth shut, and Eric was so oblivious that Callen thought he and Nell could have started reciting vows to each other and the analyst would be so wrapped up in his computers that he wouldn't notice.

It was only Hetty entering the room that made Callen reconsider his actions, and wait with apprehension.

"Miss Jones," Hetty said briskly. "I thought I told you that you were off this case?"

Nell closed her eyes briefly, before turning to face Hetty. "I know what you told me, and I'm aware that I'm not following orders."

"Then you must also be aware of the punishment for ignoring my orders," Hetty said, somewhat hesitantly. She didn't want to officially reprimand Nell, but if the other woman were openly defying her, she might have no choice.

"I am aware of the consequences," Nell said softly, stepping away from Callen. She would not hide behind him, she thought adamantly. She would face whatever Hetty threw at her.

"I must inform you of the disciplinary consequences," Hetty said slowly.

"Before you do," Callen cut in, "you should know that whatever you demand of her as punishment, I will follow, too."

Nell turned to him and shook her head slightly, but he only met her disapproval with grim determination. He didn't care what she wanted – if she were going to be punished, he wasn't going to let her suffer alone.

"This is not your fight," Nell told him.

"Maybe _this _isn't," he answered, "but _you _are."

Nell bit her lip, wondering how she could possibly respond to that. She couldn't.

Hetty sighed heavily and looked back and forth between them, finally focusing on Nell. "What am I supposed to do, then? If my lead agent is going to follow whatever I deem as punishment for you?"

Nell had no answers for the woman; how could she, when she didn't even have answers for herself? "That's entirely up to you, Hetty."

Hetty stared at the ground, as if it would give her answers. "I can't let this go unanswered, Miss Jones. You realize that, I hope. I previously put you on medical leave, and I told you to stay away from Agent Callen for the near future. You disobeyed both orders, and now I'm forced to place you on disciplinary leave for the next two weeks."

Callen tried, but he couldn't fully contain his anger. "Hetty, I know you're trying to punish Nell for the behavior that put her in harm's way, but I disagree with your methods. I hope you understand why I'm also going to follow any punishment you give her."

Hetty sighed and sat down in the nearest chair. "I won't lie to you and say that I understand it, Mr. Callen."

"Hetty…" He implored, before she held up her hand.

"But I accept it," she said, her voice brooking no argument.

"Thank you," he said carefully, and though Nell said nothing, he knew by the way she gripped his hand that she felt the same.

XXXXXX


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I can't believe it's been over a month since I updated. I have been very busy in my real life - I know that's an excuse everyone uses, but it's the truth. I want to repeat that every story I start will be finished, even if there are some delays in getting there. Sorry to those who have been waiting for a continuation to my story.

**XXXXXX**

Nell heaved a sigh and ran a cloth over one of her bookshelves for the 1,276th time. Well, maybe not, but it sure felt like it. She was bored – no, beyond bored, whatever that was. She was downright miserable, and she cast a sideways glance at the other person in her apartment. Maybe he hadn't noticed her repeated sighs. Just in case, she threw the dust cloth at him and bit back a smirk of amusement (barely) when it hit his newspaper and he looked up with sharp irritation.

"Something the matter?"

Actually, plenty of things were the matter, and she had no idea where to start. "You could help me, you know."

"Help you what? Clean? I don't think there's a speck of dust left in this apartment. If you dust that surface any more, you're going to ruin the polish," he added, quite unnecessarily.

She huffed and threw herself onto the sofa beside him. "How are you…normal?"

He knew she was referring to their current work situation, and her obvious frustration with it, while he appeared unaffected. It hit him, then, that perhaps she didn't know he felt pretty much the same as she did, he was simply better at hiding it. "How else should I be?" He couldn't resist asking.

She shrugged. She didn't expect him to sulk, or go the opposite route and rant about the injustice of things, but still…was it too much to ask for _some _sign that he was at least bothered?

"You're doing what you usually do, whether we're at work or not." She cast a scathing glance at his paper and he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on current events anymore. Correction: _she _wouldn't allow him to concentrate on current events anymore. He carefully folded the paper, setting it aside.

"Actually, I'm working on it."

"You 'working on it' looks a lot like doing nothing."

"That's why it's so effective," he argued. "The enemy suspects nothing."

"What enemy?" She asked, as she gestured around her apartment, empty except for the two of them. "We're completely alone."

"Exactly."

"That response doesn't even make sense!" She cried, unable to hide her exasperation.

He grinned smugly. "Exactly."

She was beginning to think her exaggerated sighs had no effect on him, and as such, she saved herself the trouble of doing it again. Her desperation led her to reluctant honesty, instead. "I'm miserable, Callen."

His eyes softened and the teasing glint disappeared. "I know."

"Who knew that not working would be…" she sighed again, inwardly this time, and stared at the wall. Any number of adjectives would fit the end of that sentence, all of them negative, and all of them depressing. Not something she wanted to admit to herself. Since when had work become the thing around which her entire life revolved? Had she nothing else important?

Entirely against her will, her eyes shifted to Callen, as if in unconscious answer to her own questions. He wasn't looking at her; he, too, was staring at the opposite wall, as if deep in thought. (And who knew the walls of her apartment were that fascinating, she considered with wry amusement).

He hadn't been willing to talk about work in the 6 days since Hetty's announcement about placing her (and Callen, by his own choice) on leave. Nor did he show any outward signs of unhappiness or frustration. It caused her an unreasonable amount of irritation, and yes, in her worst moments, anger.

"Don't you miss it?" She asked, in such a sharp tone that she winced immediately after saying the words.

When he turned to her, an emotion flickered across his face that she had seen in the past; she had only recently come to identify it as regret. "You have no idea."

"I think I have more than an idea," she said sullenly, hating herself for acting like a child. And for recognizing that fact, yet still being unable to avoid it.

"I get it, Nell, I do. I simply choose to react in ways different than yours."

She could only assume he meant her obsessive cleaning. She had barely stopped since being placed on leave. She was tired of dusting and polishing and organizing. It was far past the point of necessity, and she now found herself cleaning an already clean apartment.

Didn't he see that she had nothing left to do, though? She couldn't stop. She made to reach for the cloth she had thrown at him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

She was about to question him, but stopped when she saw he was staring down, as if the sight of his hand holding onto her wrist was fascinating. As if maybe he hadn't meant it to happen, but it had anyway, and he didn't know why he hadn't let go of her yet.

She was going to make a joke to lessen the sudden ratcheting tension, but he glanced up to meet her eyes. She was stunned at the look on his face, barely registering that he released her wrist, only to run his fingers down her hand until he could lace their fingers together.

"I was waiting for you to finish," he said, tipping his head to indicate her apartment, and apparently her preoccupation with cleaning it. "Then I realized you were never going to finish."

She tried to smile at that, and failed.

"Not on your own," he added.

"Eventually I would have," she sighed. "If I ever went back to work."

"Do you always do this?"

"If I'm stuck on a problem. Cleaning usually helps me focus, work through things. It's never this bad. Maybe because I…no matter how long it went on, I couldn't think of an answer to my problem."

"Work?"

She swallowed, unsure if she should admit the next part, and doing so anyway. "That's only half of it."

She didn't know if he read the answer on her face, or if he'd known it all along. "Me," he said, pausing, and taking her silence as confirmation. "I've become a problem for you." He sounded far more upset than she'd expected.

"No!" She said automatically, then had to regroup. "Well, yeah. Sort of. I…this is hard for me, too, you know."

He didn't respond, and she fought for a way to explain herself.

The fact was, ever since that incident at the warehouse, she'd been expecting them to talk about things, but he kept every conversation they had frustratingly impersonal. In fact, not counting the debriefing afterwards where Hetty had told her (and him, by extension) to take a few weeks off, today was the first day she'd seen him in person. Her heart had just about left her body when she saw him at her door, and she hated that she reacted that way. She was supposed to be able to hold onto her professional demeanor when it was required – that was something he did with little effort (if it required _any_ effort on his part, at all).

It was entirely unfair that he completely undid her. How could she be so strangely dependent upon him when he barely seemed affected? It was more infuriating because she'd seen him respond to her on more than one occasion. They'd kissed at the warehouse. Did he forget? Did he not interpret it the same as she had?

Every day that had gone by since, she'd felt more and more self-doubt. It was compounded by his seeming indifference on the matter. Or if not indifference, reluctance to talk to her about it. Maybe he'd been taking time to reconsider; maybe he had decided there should never be anything between them because it was beyond unprofessional.

Perhaps he'd come here today to find a way to let her down easy.

Her initial joy at the very fact of him touching her disappeared and she stared at their still clasped hands with a growing sense of unease.

"Was I wrong?" She asked distantly, horrified even as she said the words. Why was she always telling him things she didn't mean to say?

"Wrong about what?" He asked.

She scrambled to think of any explanation for her words aside from the real reason she'd said them. She came up with nothing. He was waiting, faint confusion on his face.

Sensing no answer was forthcoming, he looked away and said, distinctly uncomfortable. "Nell, there are…some things we need to talk about."

If she had been wrong…she rapidly re-sorted all previous information about them to accommodate this new idea.

She shut her eyes when she realized it _fit_.

Nell knew it was entirely her fault. She had allowed herself to develop inappropriate feelings for him, and when he showed signs of affection in return, she'd interpreted that as him returning her feelings. In reality, Callen might have been expressing his emotion for a team member he cared about. She knew he felt a close connection with _everyone _on his team.

But wasn't kissing her crossing the line? Surely he wouldn't toy with her like that. She refused to think him capable of it. There were other explanations, though. It had been a highly emotional moment in the aftermath of an extremely charged situation. Maybe he had been caught up in the moment, overwhelmed with relief and exhilaration because both of them escaped a situation that, for a time, looked as if it would prove fatal (or at the very least, injurious). Maybe he considered it a thrilled "thank God we're alive (and thank you for being my _friend_)" kiss.

He had tried to talk to her, right after their kiss, and she had stopped him. Oh God, she had _stopped _him, when he had probably wanted to apologize, explain they had acted inappropriately. He might have wanted to set things straight and she had talked right over him and referred to feelings and their relationship and – there was no other explaining it – he had felt _bad_ for her.

Or maybe he didn't even know what she was going on about at first. He could have been confused, maybe thought she was referring to their friendship, and brushed it off as unimportant to address. Or, even worse, he had known exactly how she felt in that moment and couldn't bring himself to crush her right after they had escaped the situation. Hadn't he said as much, that he was the one who had nearly gotten her killed? In his guilt, he couldn't bring himself to break her heart, so he waited a few days, purposefully avoiding her. And she had been so excited when he came over, thrilled, in fact, when all he wanted was to…let her down.

Straighten out any misconceptions.

He must have pitied her.

The very thought –

She jumped up, clearly startling him, as she wrenched her hand from his. Nell felt her face burning as she stared at the floor. This had gone beyond humiliation into a feeling of physical illness. It was wrenching to go from thinking he was going to talk to her about whatever was between them, (maybe even confirm what she'd thought his feelings were since the warehouse), to realizing she had gotten everything completely wrong.

Callen did not – would never – feel about her as she felt about him. It was a huge deal in and of itself that she allowed herself to admit she felt for him something that she shouldn't. If she'd had her way, she'd have ignored it, entirely, until it dissipated. Too bad that her unconscious mind would refuse to allow her to do such a thing.

What now? She'd put him in the terrible position of having to break up with someone he wasn't even in a relationship with.

She thought about how much she would resent someone who put _her _in a position like that.

"What's wrong?" He asked, seeing that her face had completely drained of color.

"Nothing."

He stood, as well, appearing entirely unaffected. "Yeah, I can tell."

She wanted to seethe at his calm, only she didn't have the energy. Her mind wandered, and she thought, why had he chosen to leave work with her? He hadn't been placed on leave. But he'd made it clear if she had to suffer it, he was going to do so as well. Did he feel that guilty about her 'punishment'? Did he blame himself for her actions, thinking he had somehow propelled her to the course of action she'd undertaken? Was he trying to punish himself for that?

It was a question she _could _ask, because now she genuinely wanted to know. "Why did you voluntarily put yourself on leave?"

His eyes narrowed at her. "I thought that was obvious."

She merely raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to elaborate. Before he could, his phone chimed and he took it out of his pocket. "Aha! I knew Eric would come through. It's amazing what you can get done without the rules of bureaucracy and the burden of paperwork. In fact, I think in the past week I've been even _more_ productive."

Oh. Now she got it, and it _was_ obvious. He had seized upon the opportunity to get away from Hetty's watchful eyes. Maybe he'd been mad at Hetty, too, but here was the proof it hadn't been his main motivation.

She didn't know how he'd managed it, though. She had tried to keep working, too. She had no idea that Hetty would be so thorough. She had cut off access to work at every turn, getting to everyone before Nell could. They wouldn't help her, or give her any access to the case that had led to her being shot. Hetty had successfully brainwashed them into thinking if they gave her the slightest lead, she would be in imminent mortal danger. The only thing she knew was that the team was still actively looking for the people who had shot her.

They were supposed to wait until the case was solved, or abandoned due to lack of evidence, before returning to work. _Both _of them. Clearly Callen hadn't gotten that message. Or more likely, he didn't care.

"You've been in contact with Eric this whole time?" She was nonplussed. She had tried, several times, to reach out to Eric, but he gave her excuses each time. He didn't want to get into trouble with Hetty or the director. He'd also made it clear that he felt her taking a leave of absence was beneficial to her mental health. How come he was talking to Callen, then?

Callen must have sensed her aggravation, because she had no other explanation as to why he ran a hand soothingly down her arm before replying (and surprise was the only explanation she could come up with as to why she didn't pull away). "I…convinced him to keep me informed of recent developments in the case."

She was already upset, but more than that, she was too aware that the real reason he'd come over today hadn't been addressed yet. It didn't help her nerves to know he was stalling, trying to delay the moment he'd have to talk to her and set things straight. When he'd inform her that the only acceptable relationship between them was strictly professional.

"Oh really?" She asked, in a clipped tone. "It's okay to talk to you, but to me, no way. Have to give Nell a bunch of ridiculous excuses as to why he's not allowed to give me information."

"He's worried about you," Callen said, aware that at some point, something had changed. Nell radiated tension and discomfort and…hurt. "Everyone's worried," he added, striving for calm.

Which was the wrong decision, because the only thing sure to upset her more at the moment was _calm_. She spun away from him and stalked across the room, because if she didn't, she was afraid of what she'd do. Like apologize. Or beg.

"Nell," he said, coming up behind her, too close, and she could practically feel him lean forward to touch her when she spun around, stepping to the side to evade him.

"I think I need to organize the kitchen cabinets," she said, trying to move past him. He resolutely blocked her path.

"You do not," he said, quietly. "When I went to find coffee earlier, I saw that everything was alphabetized _and _sorted by expiration date."

She blinked, unaware he'd been in her kitchen. She must have been cleaning the bedroom or bathroom at the time. "I don't know if that's the best method," she insisted. "I should arrange the items according to my personal preference so that I can ensure the foods I don't like as much aren't wasted and – "

"Nell," he whispered. "This has nothing to do with the food in your kitchen cabinets."

She was thrown off balance, both by her feelings for him and his nearness to her. She stepped back in reflex, attempting to defend herself.

"Why are you here?" She asked, something she'd been wondering for hours, but too afraid to ask him. Now, though, she did it as an attempt to deflect her discomfort.

Callen tilted his head to the side, giving her a look that had her distinctly nervous. "There's more than one answer to that question."

She was all too aware. "Pick one," she ordered, angrily.

In response, he hit a few buttons on his phone and then handed it to her. She was astonished to find a series of text messages from Eric. With each one, she felt an oppressive weight lessen from her shoulders. "There's a lead," she said, glancing up at him for confirmation. He nodded, and she forced herself to relax her grip on his phone.

They had been investigating the death of NCIS Agent Derek Smith, who had both a wife and a lover. Smith had been working on a highly classified project for the government – developing a nerve agent similar to sarin gas. Their investigation had been focusing on that angle, as well as investigating whether Smith's death was the result of a more personal matter, namely either his wife or lover discovering his cheating ways and killing him in fury.

Eric's messages revealed that Smith's wife may have been behind his murder.

"You're kidding me," Nell murmured. "Smith's murder could turn out to be a domestic issue entirely unrelated to his covert work for NCIS?"

Callen nodded. "As unbelievable as it is…yes."

Nell shook her head. "And how did you get Eric to reveal this to you, in the face of Hetty's numerous threats about telling you and I any information related to the case?"

Frustratingly, Callen only smirked. "That's for you to wonder, and me to know."

He should have known she wouldn't accept such a statement lying down. "You will tell me, or you will find that all personal records relating to G. Callen are going to mysteriously vanish from the world."

He briefly considered the hassle he'd have to go through if his mortgage, health insurance, and any other records connected to his real identity "disappeared" due to Nell's interference. It would be annoying, but he'd dealt with far worse. And the fact that he knew she'd never follow through on such a threat in the first place…

"I'm telling you this because I want to, not because you've threatened me."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced.

"I reminded Eric that despite this temporary setback, he would eventually have to answer to me again," he told her simply. "He realized it was in his best interest to keep me informed, despite the threats of our admittedly terrifying superior, Henrietta Lange."

Nell took that in and then carefully concealed her smile. "In what world are you scarier than Hetty?"

Callen smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

_Yes, I would_, she thought with such longing that it absolutely stunned her. Those kinds of thoughts did not help her self-preservation. She would forgive herself, though, because she knew that was one of her weaknesses – not the situation, but _him_, in particular. She worked to compose herself and had no idea if she was successful. "What did Eric find, specifically?" She asked, trying to distract him.

The knowing smile he shot her way implied that he knew exactly what she was trying to do. "Smith's wife recently found out he was cheating on her. And she was furious. She told numerous friends about the affair. It's entirely possibly she enlisted someone to kill him out of fury."

"And her actions caused us to get caught in the crossfire?" Nell asked.

At that, Callen frowned. "I'm not sure. It doesn't seem directly linked. It's possible that whoever wanted Smith dead, whether it was his wife or not, discovered the interest NCIS had in the case, and targeted us – or rather, you – because of any knowledge they thought you had that might implicate them. It's also possible the shooting happened not because of Smith's murder itself, but because of the consequences of his death. Eric is looking into whether any groups, terrorist or otherwise, had knowledge of the project Smith was working on. If any did, it's possible they wanted his research for themselves."

"And how does killing either of us help them?"

Callen shrugged. "If they thought we were in possession of any of his research…"

Nell froze, remembering exactly how much involvement she'd had in the case. It went far beyond the usual. In fact, she'd even gone to collect Smith's items from the medical examiner because everyone else had been busy that particular day. "It'd be easy to kill us and then take whatever they wanted. Pretty inept of them, though. We _are_ both still alive."

"Just because they're willing to kill for their goal doesn't necessarily make them intelligent."

Nell tried to hide an unwilling shudder at Callen's words. It was worse, somehow. Being the target of a sophisticated assassin was terrifying enough, but to be a mere afterthought? To be the casualty of a group of dim-witted, impulsive terrorists, or anarchists, or whatever… She didn't know why, but it was all the more unsettling to realize that her attempted murder might have simply been _convenient__. _They might not even have been certain her death, or Callen's, would bring them any gain. They just saw an opportunity and took it.

She couldn't explain her newfound dread, except that it felt paralyzing. She glanced at him, unsure how to voice her fears.

Callen was at a loss, mainly because he arrived at the same conclusions she had. "It doesn't matter why they shot at _us_," he emphasized the word, hoping she would remember she wasn't alone. "What matters is they didn't succeed. Nor will they in the future. Because we – our whole team – is going to stop them."

Nell turned from him and took several steps away.

"We will figure this out," he said from several feet behind her. "I don't care what Hetty has to say on the matter."

Her mind swam, and she felt as if she were drowning. Yet, she kept coming back to the conclusion she'd drawn earlier, and though it was a jarring change of topic, she was sick of waiting for him to say it aloud. "And the other reason you came?"

His silence told her he either needed to remember what she was referring to, or needed to gather himself to explain. She didn't bother turning to him to try and figure out which was the case.

"Nell…I…" He sounded as lost as she felt, and her self-control shattered.

She spun, immediately putting him on edge. "You don't have to say it."

"Say…what?" Now he sounded confused.

"Whatever it is you're going to say."

He watched her for one beat, then two, then – "Nell, maybe you should let me talk."

"No!" She insisted. "I don't want to hear it."

"How do you know that, if you don't know what I'm going to say?"

She hated his logic. But she knew, she _knew,_ and she wasn't –

"Nell, what happened? Why are you acting as if I'm going to –"

"It was wrong, wasn't it?" She broke in. "What we did, that is. I mean, I thought things were one way, when really they were…"

He didn't do anything except stand there, a few feet away, watching her intently. He caught on quickly (which she should have been used to, because she knew how he was). "You think that what happened between us was…" he shrugged, presumably searching for the right words. "A mistake?"

"A misunderstanding," she corrected. "Entirely on my part." She glanced, away, cursing that her fair skin meant she was turning red and she could do nothing to conceal it.

"A misunderstanding," he repeated, testing the words, becoming more withdrawn with each syllable. "That's what you want to call it?"

She was taken aback. "I don't _want _to call it anything. I just know I…was wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Wrong about you." She couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to see the confirmation in them. The regret, the rejection, the – she wasn't that person, the kind who could witness such things and move on and remain as strong as before.

Because she wasn't looking at him, he was able to reach her without her noticing. He pulled her into an embrace, causing her to tense, still waiting for him to tell her exactly what she'd decided he would say.

"Nell," he said, muffled, somewhat desperately, into her hair. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to spend my life righting every wrong notion you have about me?"

Her mind could focus on only two words, which told her she'd been wrong, so very wrong. "Your life?" She whispered, somewhat in wonder.

He didn't respond, simply framed her face in his hands and examined her as if she were something he'd never seen before.

She opened her mouth to ask him again, to demand clarification – because she was Nell, and she needed clarification like she needed order – but before she could expand upon her question, he leaned down to kiss her.

Within moments, she became unsure of what she had meant to ask in the first place. For some reason, she was entirely certain that his response was more than answer enough – for now.

**XXXXXX**

Thanks to those who have not lost interest due to my delayed absence! I will try to update in a more timely manner from now on, and this story does not have much longer to go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** Thanks to all who have read this, and all who have reviewed – you inspire me to keep going!

**XXXXXX**

Nell returned to consciousness slowly, and (if the pain in her head was any indication) reluctantly. She inhaled deeply, forcing her breathing to remain calm and even.

With her eyes shut, she couldn't see her surroundings, but she was aware of a sudden, overwhelming sense of _wrongness_.

That wasn't unusual, she reminded herself, biting down on panic and terror. Typical mornings were sometimes mystifying. The very process of emerging from an unconscious dream state back into reality was, by its nature, confusing, and something she had dwelled upon many times in her life.

She simply needed to remember last night, and then she'd learn where she was, and she'd know what had happened, and…

Nothing came.

_Nothing_.

A sinking feeling grew within her, because she knew, she _knew_, without even opening her eyes…

That she had no idea where she was.

She proved herself right when she opened them anyways, and was greeted with blank white walls which enclosed a small room absent of any furniture aside from the twin bed she laid upon and a lamp in the corner so dim it might as well have been off. The eerie darkness of her surroundings meant she could just barely make out the room, and lack of furniture within it.

She racked her brain, trying desperately to recall her last memory. Her mind was utterly blank, though. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate; it was more like there was a jumbled mass of memories swirling in her mind, and she simply couldn't remember the order in which any of them had occurred.

She remembered being shot at some point, and she remembered fighting with Hetty, and she remembered Callen being there (always), and – oh God, what was the order? What happened _last_?

Because if she could remember what happened last, that would most likely tell her where she was, and what had happened to her.

Try as she might, she couldn't properly organize anything that was currently in her head.

In resignation, she did the most logical thing – she vowed to think about it later.

A quick and thorough search of the room revealed nothing that could help her, either to learn of her whereabouts or to devise a means of escape. There was a small bathroom off the room she was in, but it had no windows, and was completely devoid of anything she could use as a weapon. The other exit from the room was locked. She gathered enough courage to bang on the door a few times and call for someone to answer her, but all she got in return was silence. Either there was no one listening, or those outside didn't care to respond.

She told herself she wasn't giving up; she was only taking a break to rest. But as she laid on the bed, staring upwards at the blank white ceiling in growing worry, it did little to comfort her.

**XXXXXX**

It had been two days since she'd gone missing – two days of living at headquarters and harassing Eric non-stop, and yelling (actually _yelling_) at Hetty that even though he wasn't supposed to be there, the only way she'd remove him was in handcuffs. Hetty hadn't bothered to respond to that, not verbally, at least. But the whiteness of her face, the tiredness and worry that he saw in her, was enough to tell him he needn't have bothered with his threats.

He knew Hetty wasn't immune, but he couldn't remember the last time she'd shown actual fear. The fact that she did now terrified him even more.

"They wouldn't have taken her if they didn't feel they had something to gain by doing so," Sam offered, yet again, and Callen could only presume it was his way of working out the problem. "We just have to figure out what they could gain."

No one pointed out that there was another reason she might have been taken – to eliminate her and whatever information she had that her capturers didn't want revealed. In which case they were no longer working a missing persons case, but a homicide.

None of them would entertain the possibility, not now, maybe not ever.

"They would contact us, right?" Kensi asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself, unable to fight her own anxious worry. "Why haven't they made contact yet?"

It was a good question, and one which none of them had been able to answer.

Callen stared intently at the main screen which had pictures of their suspects in the shooting of Nell two weeks earlier. Derek Smith's wife Anna, his mistress Catherine, and several of Smith's business associates. Callen had questioned them all personally, and though his team had circumstantial evidence in abundance, no one could find a direct link to tie any of them to the shooting. He was _thisclose_ to kidnapping one of them and torturing them into telling him where Nell was. The only problem with that was he honestly had no idea if they had anything to do with her disappearance.

"What are we missing?" He asked, and if his voice had a raw, desperate edge to it, no one called him on it (even if it would have been in his best interest to be ordered to go home and get some rest).

Deeks ignored them, as he had been for hours, and continued to flip through file after file. There had to be something they were missing, and damned if he'd let Nell die because someone had overlooked an inconspicuous fact in a file.

"Her cell signal was last active here," Eric repeated information they had known since the day before, pulling up a map on screen which indicated an area 10 miles north of her apartment. "I mapped the address of everyone connected to our case and found nothing in the remote vicinity. But I'll try including associates of everyone next – maybe we'll get lucky."

Callen absently nodded for him to do it (as if he hadn't started already). He numbly stared at the map of southern California, wondering if Nell were anywhere in that space, or if she'd been taken elsewhere. Was she even alive out there? He had to believe she was, but there was always the possibility…no, there _wasn't_ his mind screamed. There was _no _possibility that she was gone. There was no world in which he'd accept that.

His increasingly dark thoughts were interrupted by Deeks' sharp inhale and the sound of a half dozen file folders landing on the floor. He spun around to meet his colleague's gaze.

"Catherine Pike," Deeks said, referring to Derek Smith's mistress. He jumped up from his seat and crossed to Eric's chair. "Eric, pull up everything you can find on Catherine's sister, Elizabeth Walsh."

Eric did a quick search and then froze. "She's married to James Walsh."

Callen narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"James Walsh was born in Pakistan to Irananian-American parents," he glanced over at Callen. "We didn't pick up on it because he's an American citizen. His parents chose an American name to fit in when they moved to the U.S. when James was two years old."

"Which means…" Kensi began.

"There's a good chance he was raised with his parents' beliefs," Deeks finished, scanning more government reports as Eric pulled them up on his computer. "His father Ebrahim was a sympathizer with ties to various terrorist groups."

"That's it," Callen breathed. "It has to be."

Sam stared at the driver's license of James Walsh they pulled up on screen. "So James' wife Elizabeth asks her sister to seduce an American NCIS agent to discover information pertaining to his classified government research of chemical nerve agents?"

"Or something like that," Deeks nodded. "Maybe their contact was completely innocent at first. We can't know for sure, but –"

"It doesn't matter how the contact happened, or when," Callen interrupted. "It's still the best tie we've got, so far. Eric, get every known address of James Walsh and every one of his relatives, friends, and associates."

Eric nodded, taking several interminable minutes to find the information. "I have three addresses – two belonging to co-workers, one to his second cousin, Aliana Walsh."

"Sam and I have Aliana's place, Deeks and Kensi, take one of the co-workers, and dispatch local police to the third location."

"ETA is 37 minutes," Eric called to him as he walked out the door.

And still, after more than 48 hours of uncertainty, Callen had no idea how 37 minutes could seem like an eternity.

**XXXXXX**

Nell had no idea how long she'd been in the room, but it had to be over a day. Maybe several days. She'd had no contact with anyone. Her fear of whoever might be on the other side of the door had long ago disappeared, and she'd tried several times to get the attention of someone – anyone – but no answer ever came in response to her banging on the door or yelling for help.

Part of her was beginning to entertain an idea more terrifying than thinking she'd been abducted in order to get information from her. What if she'd been taken simply to gain leverage over someone else? The 'someone else' being Callen (or, in a less remote possibility, someone else they worked with).

At first she disregarded the idea as unlikely, but as each hour passed, she had to think it was more plausible. And if no one was coming for her, she would die.

She had water thanks to the sink in the bathroom, but no food to speak of. She was hungry right now, though not yet starving. Sure, she'd said many times in her life she was 'starving', but she knew, now, she never had been. She'd used the term casually, like everyone else. But the actual point of starving wasn't far off, and she knew it would be extremely painful. She had no wish to experience it firsthand, but she might not have a choice.

She waited, and waited.

No one came, either captor or rescuer.

It occurred to her that she might have to get herself out of this situation; the only problem was that she had no idea how. She had scoured every inch of the room and come up empty-handed. The thing about captivity was that it provided plenty of time for thinking and planning. Nell had time in abundance. What she didn't have was any feasible way to get out of her current situation.

She still couldn't remember the events prior to her kidnapping, but in the ample amount of time she'd had to think, she had conjured a solid guess: she was fairly certain she must have been at her apartment, and she was almost certain she'd been alone.

She had decided that based on simple logic. If she were anywhere other than her apartment, her guard would have been up, but it _was_ possible someone might have taken her from an alternate location. As to her other conclusion – that she was alone – of that she was fairly positive. If she'd been with Callen, she doubted anyone would have tried to take her, and if they had, he would have put up a fight. The same went if she had been with any other of her co-workers. She must have been caught off-guard, and who would approach the woman they wanted to abduct when she was with someone else?

Sadly, for all of her reasoning, none of it did anything towards giving her information as to why she was taken, or who had done it.

There was one thing, though…there was no point in abducting someone without a motive.

No one had demanded anything of her.

Which meant they had demanded it of someone else, instead.

**XXXXXX**

Callen slammed the front door excessively hard to try and vent his frustration – the house was empty. No sign anyone had been there in months. Kensi and Deeks had found a family living at the home they'd visited, and no signs anyone had ever been held there against their will. Worse, local police told Sam the third location wasn't being used to hold someone hostage, either.

It left them at square one, and that was a place Callen despised.

He knew Sam was about to suggest they go home and get some rest, and he was formulating excuses for why he couldn't do that, when his phone rang. It was a blocked number, and he hit the button to answer, intuition telling him to remain silent.

The other person didn't wait for a greeting. "How are you, Agent Callen?" The voice held no malice, only mere curiosity.

Callen froze and glanced over at Sam, who met him with an inquisitive look.

"Who is this?" Callen demanded harshly.

"It doesn't matter who I am," the other person (a man, that was all Callen could tell through what seemed to be a voice distorter) replied smoothly. "I understand you've had a trying couple of days."

Callen shut his eyes, afraid he might say something that could ruin this. He_ knew_, without any proof, that this was the only link he had to Nell after over two days. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The man laughed, the chuckle sounding all the more ominous due to the software he was using to disguise his voice. "Sure you don't."

Time to quit playing games, then. "Where is she?"

A slight pause on the other end, and then, "I knew you were smart, Agent Callen. Surely smart enough to know that information is something you'll have to earn."

A million thoughts ran through his mind. The only one he managed to say (slowly, as if he were afraid of the answer) was, "Is she alive?"

"You think I'd kill her when she still served a purpose for me?"

To hear her talked about so casually, as if her life was nothing more than a means to an end, caused both despair and a cold fury to well up inside him. He ignored the despair and focused on the fury, grasping it as hard as he could, determined to use it to keep her alive. "What do you want?"

Another strangely distorted laugh. "What I want? Agent Callen, the list of things I want is so long that no one could ever fulfill it. But, thankfully for you, there is something you can give me. I want you to meet me, and bring all the information you have regarding your murder investigation into Derek Smith."

Callen paused, mulling that over. "Why?"

"Call it a personal inquiry into the case, Agent. Tomorrow, meet me at –"

"Not until I know she's alive," Callen broke in, unable to hide his emotions, sure his voice completely gave him away. Then again, whoever had taken Nell knew she was the best way to get to him, so he supposed it didn't matter by now if he hid his feelings for her or not.

"After our meeting, Agent Cal –"

No, unacceptable, _unacceptable_. Callen's rage actually prevented him from hearing the end of the other man's sentence. He was blinded, he knew it, but he couldn't accept such an arrangement. She could be dead already, and – and – _no_.

He would give this man nothing without proof.

Several heartbeats passed in silence. "Agent Callen?" The man asked, the slightest hint of… (confusion? worry? self-doubt?) creeping into the words. Whatever the man felt, the slight sign of weakness was more than enough to convince Callen to follow through with his rash plan.

"No deal," Callen managed to get out, before ending the connection.

He stared at his phone for nearly a minute, wondering if it would ring again. Each second that passed, Callen felt his heart fall further and further, until it could get no lower.

Had he miscalculated? Had he acted too impulsively? What if the other man took this as a personal insult, and went to Nell (if she were still alive) and took it out on her? What if he could never fix this?

He might have…

Oh God. He glanced up, meeting Sam's worried gaze. Callen laughed, the sound unexpected, brittle and self-deprecating. His partner didn't need to speak.

"I think I…I might have just…"

Sam's eyes widened, and Callen didn't see concern or worry in them, he saw fear, and it was only then that he realized how terrible he must have looked.

"Sam, I…" Callen looked at his phone again, registering that another minute had passed without it ringing.

He might have been wrong.

Completely wrong.

If so, he would be paying for that mistake for the rest of his life.

"I might have just killed her."

**XXXXXX**

Nell had become accustomed to the complete silence around her, which meant she jumped a figurative mile when the door to her room opened.

"There's been a change of plans," the man in the doorway told her, motioning for her to follow him.

He disappeared from the door, and she assumed she was supposed to follow. She wanted to ask a dozen questions; instead, she inched forward, slowly following him, marveling at the fact that she was apparently in a normal house. She passed through a hallway, a living room, and entered a kitchen, where the man was making coffee. Before, if she'd had to guess, she would have said she was in some underground prison.

"Please, sit," he said, motioning to barstools set at a kitchen counter.

But really, more than her abduction, more than the strange appearance of this man, her mind was registering the fact that she was in a kitchen.

And she was extremely hungry.

So hungry that she dared to ignore him and open the fridge. Condiments, and more condiments, and was that deli meat? She looked at the man suspiciously, but his back was to her, and she grabbed it before moving to sit where he had indicated.

"My apologies," he said, turning to face her. "You must be hungry." He took a loaf of bread from a drawer and handed it to her. "By all means, have a sandwich."

If she'd had any stray thoughts about trying to harm him, or running for escape, they were abruptly ended when she spotted two men hovering at the edge of the room – clearly hired security.

Since she had no desire to get shot (again), she did as he suggested and made herself a sandwich.

Silence had served her well so far, and she decided to keep it up.

He mustn't have been expecting her to simply eat and watch him, because he regarded her with faint surprise as he sipped his coffee, sliding a mug toward her.

"If you cooperate, we can get you out of here in no time," he said calmly.

She knew he was lying, knew that he wanted to kill her as soon as possible. She discerned, from the tension in his shoulders and tight lines around his mouth, that he had wanted to kill her long before now, but kept her alive out of necessity. She wanted to grab the cup of coffee he'd given her and throw it back in his face; she would have, too, if she hadn't been convinced his security would make her suffer severely for such an action.

That was why she didn't respond to him.

He smiled at her, and she saw that he was trying to appear pleasant, charming, even. "I need you to make a call for me."

Again, she wouldn't speak. She resorted to staring at her food as she ate, refusing to acknowledge him in any way.

He slid a piece of paper into her field of vision, and she blinked, her eyes automatically widening when she recognized the number as Callen's. She didn't look up, but she could hear the smirk in the man's voice as he continued talking.

"I thought that might get your attention. I want you to call your…_friend_." He said the word suggestively, obviously believing she and Callen were more than that. "Assure him that you are fine and have been treated well, and that your continued safety is contingent upon his actions. Since we don't want to give any unnecessary information away, you'll find I've already written out what you are to say. Flip it over."

She turned the paper, skimming the two paragraphs written out for her to read to Callen. It basically said she was alright, and would stay that way, if he followed all demands.

"I know about the little tricks you agents have to signal each other. Deviate from that script by _one word_ and you will regret it, instantly." The man's voice had dropped into a near hiss. He motioned to one of his security men who raised a gun, and Nell took that to mean that if she messed up even one word, she would be shot.

She read over the paragraphs again, more carefully this time, and realized what she was being ordered to do. The last paragraph included a location and time for a meeting. She would be drawing Callen into a trap. Even if he suspected it was a trap, there would be no way out of it, because he would come anyways just to ensure that she was alright. She knew him, and apparently so did her abductor; Callen wouldn't hand this job off to anyone else, not when she was involved.

He would die.

In fact, there was a high likelihood (she wagered somewhere in the vicinity of 99.99%) that _both _of them would die.

The man slid a cell phone toward her and gestured for her to make the call, his security guard walking over to stand next to her, prepared to keep her words in line no matter the cost.

"Call him."

Nell ran through a dozen scenarios in her head in the span of several seconds. Reading the script as ordered; trying to slip in a panic word or phrase to alert Callen without her abductor noticing; trying to outright warn Callen despite the consequences she would face; making a dash to escape the room altogether. Nothing she came up with saved her life.

She was as good as dead no matter which option she chose.

It was with a burst of peaceful clarity that she accepted her fate, and made up her mind.

"Call him!" The man repeated sharply, pressing send on the phone, having already punched in Callen's number.

Nell grabbed it and quickly hit the button to end the call, willing herself to drown out the despair and regret she felt at not allowing herself to speak to Callen one last time.

"No," she said, squarely meeting her abductor's eyes for the first time. "I won't."

His eyes clouded over and he made a sharp motion to the security guard behind her.

Even before her vision went black, Nell knew what she had done, and she prayed that someday Callen would forgive her for killing herself.

**XXXXXX**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I have been unsure where to go with this story, hence my terribly long time between chapters. Of course, after having such trouble, this chapter got too long and I had to split it. Which means the next chapter is done and will be posted as soon as I edit it. After that, I hope to wrap things up soon. Thanks to all still interested in this story!

**XXXXXX**

Nell never expected to awake again; that was why, when she woke to find herself back in the small bedroom in which she'd been imprisoned for days, she was beyond furious. Beyond irate.

Beyond anything she'd ever known. She half-thought that the words to describe it had never been invented.

She wanted to tear the room apart, but considering there was nothing in it, that plan had to be abandoned.

She was still alive, which meant there had to be a way out of this.

She got an actual visitor each day now, he was called Dmitri and he brought her food. He also inspected the room to make sure she hadn't devised some ingenious means of escape.

She'd had to ask him. "How, exactly, would I escape this room using a lamp and a bar of soap?"

He looked at her sideways, kicking the baseboards around the edges of the room. "Boss says you're smart."

She nodded. "Smart enough to create an axe out of a blanket and pillow?"

He scowled at her. Obviously he thought the same as she did, that his inspections were pointless. "I know how to keep my mouth shut and don't ask questions," this was said with a pointed look at her.

"And that makes you…a good lackey?" She couldn't resist needling sweetly, totally disregarding everything he'd said.

He left, slamming the door with enough force that the wall shook. Hit a nerve, there. Good.

Or bad, depending on how wise it was to be harassing the people charged with keeping her locked up.

Nell was a realist, which meant she could admit the very likely (more likely than not, really) chance that she wouldn't escape this alive.

If she couldn't make it out alive, she had one goal: to cause her captors grief. She wanted to hurt those who had taken her, as much as she possibly could. If insults were all she could manage, she'd take it.

Moreover, if she knew the end was near, she was going to go out fighting, doing something that would make the people she loved proud.

She waited, biding her time, trying not to hope for the improbable scenarios where her team found her and saved her at the last minute. There wasn't always a successful rescue, she'd been around long enough to know that. As it was, they'd been lucky for a long time, with such a high success rate that it could be called unusual. But the success of past missions did nothing to indicate the success of future ones.

That was why she didn't blame them for not having found her by now; she really didn't. She knew they had tried, and that alone kept her going when she wanted to give up.

It might cost her dearly, but by God, she'd do whatever she could to make her abductors pay, and not because of what they did to her, but because of what they'd done to the people she loved by taking her away from them.

After around a week of languishing in that much hated room, the man came to see her again. She knew his name now – Dmitri had referred to him as Walsh one day when he brought her food.

"You won't cooperate with me," Walsh said, trying to hide his frustration.

She stretched out on the bed and tried to appear nonchalant, even though her heart was racing. "No, I don't think I will."

"I might spare his life, and the lives of everyone on your team, if you do."

"As if I'd believe your word, anyway."

He smiled slightly. "Fair enough. Right now I'm considering leaving you alive after I finish everything. After I've…taken care of them. Can't suffer if you're dead, can you?"

She felt a chill, and hoped she'd hidden it. "I'm shaking," she said blandly.

"Did you know I've tried to contact him several times? He outright refuses to negotiate for you. I'm beginning to wonder if you're as important as I originally thought. NCIS certainly doesn't think so."

She sat up abruptly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "You're lying, and if you think it's going to make me go along with you, you're mistaken."

He relaxed, and she cursed that she'd let him get to her. "_Am_ I lying? I think NCIS has written you off as dead. How sad that even Callen won't try to save you. I thought he cared about you."

She said nothing, unwilling to insist that he did care about her. If Walsh thought he'd over-estimated her importance to Callen, then he might be safe. She couldn't contemplate that maybe Walsh really _had _over-estimated her importance.

She wondered if he were telling the truth about trying to contact NCIS. It was possible, but then again, she couldn't see the man in front of her lowering himself enough to repeatedly call NCIS and beg for them to negotiate for her release.

Walsh pressed his mouth into a grim line. "We'll do it another way, then. If he won't come for you, and you won't set up a meeting with him…that means we have to track him down. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

She almost couldn't believe it, struggling to rein in her amusement. "You're going to _find_ him?" She wanted to ask Walsh if he remembered that the only reason he was still alive and out of custody was because he'd so far successfully _hidden_ from Callen.

Walsh also sounded amused, she would guess for entirely different reasons. "I received a tip, looks like you'll get your reunion. I doubt it will be long-lived, though."

"If you're crazy enough to seek out Callen, then you deserve everything you get."

"I'll get what I deserve," he agreed amiably. "Not what you_ think_ I deserve." He stood to leave, glancing back at her. "You've amused me, Nell. I think I'll take mercy on you when this is over and kill you, after all."

**XXXXXX**

"On the chance you were wondering," Walsh said from the front passenger seat, "your team is about to intercept a drug trafficking ring. I can't think of anything more exciting to interrupt! Who will die, and how?" He turned to face her. "Will our appearance benefit the traffickers or cause their deaths? And what about your team, will they survive? Want to place some bets?"

She met his gaze with stony silence.

"No?" He laughed. "Be that way, then. I have ten thousand on the outcome that no one from your team survives. You're missing the chance for a big pay-out. Not that you would live long enough to spend it, on the chance that you won. I guess it's a lose-lose bet for you."

The SUV stopped, and she saw through the window that they were at a harbor. "Are you kidding me?" She asked. "They're taking down a drug ring…in the middle of the night…down at the docks?"

"A bit cliché, right?" Walsh grinned at her in the rearview mirror.

"This is like a C-movie plot," she complained.

"Sorry that your team didn't choose to take down this ring in broad daylight at a luxury resort. You can file a formal complaint with Agent Callen if you live long enough to talk with him."

"You know," Nell said, "you're actually pretty funny. Tone down the death threats and we could be friends."

Before Walsh could reply, Dmitri chose that moment to shove her unceremoniously out of the SUV. She stumbled slightly, catching her balance before she careened off the docks into the water. Did they have to stop so close to the edge? "Was that for the lackey comment?" She asked, bristling at his look that told her he quite enjoyed it.

She barely contained laughter at the thought of her abductors trying to use her to get what they wanted, only to have her end up drowning in the murky water due to her own clumsiness. Everything seemed hilarious, lately. Maybe it was the sense of impending death that allowed her to see the unexpected humor in life.

She glanced around, finding that the docks were deserted, as anyone would have expected them to be at 2:30 in the morning. They were near the water's edge, and the pier was surprisingly well-lit. A half moon shone down on everything, lending an eerie glow to the proceedings. Where were these mysterious traffickers, then?

Dmitri stepped closer to her and she tensed with anticipation, wondering if she should act now. She almost did, but her innate sense of caution told her to wait and see what happened next. Her hands were tied, but she had something up her sleeve – both figuratively and literally. A pen, in fact. She'd snagged it from the counter on the way out of the house. What to do with it…now that was another matter entirely.

She swept her eyes around in a casual survey and froze when a figure stepped out of the blackness about 40 feet away. She needed a minute to recognize him. In a way, he was unexpected, because of how she'd convinced herself she'd never see him again. She resisted pinching herself to make sure this wasn't another of the many dreams she'd had since being abducted.

"Callen?" She whispered, her voice probably not carrying to him.

He was surprised – no shocked – for a moment, before schooling his features to be carefully blank. She felt sympathy for him, for his having come across her in the last place he expected, and maybe he'd already given up on her. Maybe they all had. Good thing she hadn't given up on herself.

She wanted to apologize to him for interrupting their operation, as illogical as that was.

He studied her in silence, and she fought the urge to take a few steps toward him, unsure of what the consequences might be. Dmitri would probably shove her off the dock with gleeful malice.

"Agent Callen," Walsh called, sounding downright thrilled at the circumstances. "I propose a trade. You have one of your agents transmit all the information you have on me, and on Derek Smith's research, to my phone right now, and I don't put a bullet in your agent's head."

Callen immediately recognized Nell's captor as James Walsh, but he ignored him. "I can't believe you let yourself get abducted," he said, words clearly directed at Nell, the faintest hint of derision in his voice. He moved closer to them, which meant she could see when he regarded her with obvious disappointment.

She knew, immediately, the course he was trying to take: convince Walsh she meant nothing to NCIS or to him. That didn't make the words sting any less, though. "I didn't exactly choose this," she protested, and winced at the weakness in her voice. Maybe it would sell things to Walsh, though.

"I didn't say you chose it," Callen replied. "But that doesn't change what you allowed to happen, does it?"

Although she knew what he was playing at, the fury that rose within her was real. It flared right in a place where she thought she had successfully purged every emotion from this ordeal. She let herself feel it, using it to make the charade easier.

"What I _allowed _to happen?" She repeated his words slowly, as if they might calm her, but they had the opposite effect. She had to believe it, she had to play along, but…the words hurt enough already, never mind if she pretended they were real.

"How am I supposed to know the two of you aren't working together?" He called to them, his words as sharp as a blade; she almost expected to start bleeding from the force of it.

Self-doubt started to creep in. She _had_ been abducted, hadn't she? She hadn't stopped it, she hadn't been able to escape, and she had refused to call Callen to issue demands. Based upon the evidence, it wasn't entirely inconceivable that NCIS had written her off as a lost cause at best, a traitor at worst.

NCIS might have, but Callen wouldn't, her team wouldn't. They would never.

Maybe it would be her downfall that she trusted Callen so much that he could probably shoot her and she'd make excuses for him.

She searched his eyes through the distance separating them, searching for something, anything to reassure her. She could discern nothing that told her his sentiments were part of some elaborate plan to free her. He was good, she already knew that, but it didn't help reassure her.

"Well?" Walsh demanded, and her heart surged when he glanced between the two of them with something that was starting to look like doubt.

"No deal," Callen said. "I already told you, Walsh. We don't negotiate with abductors, and we sure as hell don't deal with traitors. Besides, we're kind of busy right now." He glanced around the pier, as if he expected a bunch of drug traffickers to spring out from behind some shipping crates. Well, maybe he did.

"I will not release her until I get that information," Walsh swore, pressing the gun into her shoulder.

"Then it appears as if she's never going to be released," Callen sounded bored.

This might be the end, she knew it, as surely as she'd ever known anything. One press of a finger lay between two scenarios: a life of her living (hopefully) until she was elderly, or one where she died right here, in front of the team she'd worked for and cared for and _lived _for over the past few years.

She only saw Callen, but wherever he was, the others weren't far behind. They must be spread out, in position to take down those they were after. She wondered what they thought of her showing up in the middle of an operation.

"You're trying my patience, Agent Callen," Walsh hissed.

"Really, Nell," Callen ignored the man who held a gun on her, successfully distracting both her and Walsh. "How did you allow it to come to this? Are you two working together? Just tell me."

She shut her eyes for a moment, because even though she knew (with a certainty she couldn't explain) that he was acting, his words cut too close to her own self-doubts. He might never question her, but since she'd been abducted, she'd questioned herself. Every day.

She didn't need to reassure him, but she needed to reassure _herself_ that she'd done everything right, that she'd taken every precaution she could. That she wasn't completely inept, that some things were impossible to predict, and every counter-measure in the world wouldn't stop them. She knew it, but knowing it and believing it were two entirely different things.

Nell reached up to rub her forehead, remembering her hands were tied together at the uncomfortable pull on her wrists. "I am not a traitor," she insisted, slowly. "And I didn't have any say in this."

"What did we train you for?" Callen asked, his voice rising with anger. "To be an easy target? To be _weak_? God, Nell, I should have –"

"Given up on me long ago," she interrupted. "I know. Believe me, I know."

He didn't reply, and she was grateful, needing to collect herself. She bowed her head and swallowed back emotions that didn't help her in the current situation.

"As sweet a reunion as this is," said Walsh, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm afraid I have to interrupt. Last chance, Callen, before the bloodshed. What's it going to be?"

Nell shook her head. "Good luck, Walsh. Don't you get that I won't be welcomed back with open arms? Or with anything, for that matter?"

"Or so he says," Walsh told her. She inhaled sharply when he moved the gun from her shoulder to her head. "I think this might help him reconsider. Now tell me, Agent Callen, can we come to terms?"

Nell had no doubt he'd shoot her, kill her, if Callen didn't comply. Walsh was angry enough that he'd do it just to spite those who had angered him.

She didn't want to, but against her will, she met Callen's eyes. They were colder than she'd ever seen, and not just on him, but on anyone.

He had no real reaction to her current predicament. "I think you've misjudged where my allegiances lie."

"I don't think so," Walsh argued, pressing the gun closer to her temple. Nell winced as it painfully dug into her skin. She wondered if she would live long enough for this to haunt her nightmares. She thought of Callen, and her team, and wondered if it would haunt _theirs_.

Callen smirked. "And that will be your downfall."

Walsh didn't say anything, but Nell felt his hesitation in the hand that held the gun. He was wavering. They had to capitalize on it somehow. "You should believe him," she argued. "My value to NCIS appears to have diminished. Considerably."

"I don't believe you. Either of you," Walsh said, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice. He turned to Callen. "Why else were you so determined to find her?"

"It was my _job_," Callen argued. "But now…"

"Now?" Walsh gripped her arm, punishing enough to leave bruises.

"My superiors have given me…other options," Callen said cryptically.

"Options," Walsh scoffed.

"Options that allow me to walk away," Callen clarified.

"You're lying."

Callen shrugged, as if it were of no consequence to him. "Believe what you want."

"He's telling the truth," Nell broke in. "He'd leave me to fend for myself."

Callen hesitated. "I'm sorry," he offered. "It's nothing personal, Agent Jones."

_Everything's personal with us, _she wanted to scream in the face of his indifference. She wisely didn't voice that thought. "I just want it to be over," she managed instead, looking down so her face wouldn't give her away.

"What are you two talking about?" Walsh yelled, rapidly approaching an edge from which there would be no return. "This is unacceptable! I want that information and I want it _now_!"

"You heard Agent Callen," Nell whispered. "You'll get nothing in exchange for me."

Callen stepped forward, opening his mouth as if to argue with her statement, then thought better of it and didn't.

Nell could have cried, but if this were the end, she refused to leave the world that way. She abruptly remembered her earlier resolve, and how she'd sworn, to herself, to go down _fighting_.

Hurt welled up within her, joining the swirling mass of emotions that had already taken her over: terror, shame, fury, helplessness, pain – she needed to stop them, to turn them _off_.

She had never been a violent person, never raised her hand to another with the intention of harm, but now, _now_, she wanted to strike out. She didn't want to injure, she wanted to kill, she wanted to _destroy_ the man who had caused her to feel this way.

"I think we've run out of things to talk about," Walsh said, giving her a slight push forward. She tripped, barely catching and preventing a fall to the wooden deck at her feet. It was the last straw. There was no reason for him to push her except to remind her he had the power. And right before he was going to kill her, no less? As if she needed reminding? Talk about adding insult to injury.

She remembered the pen, and the hasty plans she'd been formulating on the ride here. She estimated the last (and unfortunately, best) one had somewhere around a 1 in 200 chance of working. If it didn't, at least she'd get some measure of surprise over him.

She met Callen's eyes again, hopefully not for the last time, and then spun on her captor, bringing both hands up to jab the pen into his neck. It was a lot harder than she'd thought, she had to push as hard as she could, and she felt only grim satisfaction when the crude weapon sank into his skin, even though it wouldn't go that deep.

His mouth fell open in shock, hand automatically going up to his neck where blood was slowly trickling around the pen.

Nell couldn't believe it had been even somewhat successful – she'd only seen moves like that in over-the-top action movies, a la Quentin Tarantino. The surrealness of the situation had just kicked up about 27 notches, and in a surge of vicious intent, grateful that Walsh was distracted on account of the fact that he'd just been _stabbed in the neck_, Nell shoved him backwards toward the water's edge. They weren't close enough for him to fall in before he recovered.

"Did you just stab me? With a pen?" He reached up and yanked it out. Blood trickled from the wound which didn't appear fatal.

Her eyes widened in growing panic. That hadn't done what she'd hoped at _all_. She took a few steps back. "In my defense, human skin is a lot harder to break with a blunt object like a ballpoint pen, maybe if you invested in fountain pens –" She broke off when he took a step toward her.

"Then I could be dead right now. What a brilliant suggestion." He glanced down at the pen he still held. "It appears I underestimated you, Nell Jones. It's a shame the world will never know your talent."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Why did criminals always feel a lecture was vitally important before killing a victim? Was it simply the natural urge to gloat? She generally thought it defeated the point – the person you were lecturing wouldn't be around long to dwell on the words.

Moreover, she realized (as he rambled on), she had completely lost the element of surprise. She had to gain it back somehow, but the pen thing had been her only (admittedly non-brilliant) plan.

They had developed somewhat of a rapport the past few days, hadn't they? Maybe he regretted wanting to kill her. Maybe he was going to change his mind.

"I'll spare you the indignity of meeting your end with a writing utensil," he said, "and give you the mercy of a bullet instead."

Okay, maybe not.

She had been shot already, so she wouldn't really consider it an act of mercy. When he turned to toss the pen into the water, she saw a chance and took it without thinking, rushing at him and using her momentum to send both of them off the pier.

As the black of the water rushed up to meet them, she realized the folly of her plan. Strange that she hadn't considered, before her rash action, that staying afloat in cold water at night was hard enough in the best of circumstances – never mind if your hands were tied together and you went into said water with an armed man who wanted to kill you.

Then the freezing water went from conjecture to reality, and most thoughts except survival fled from her mind altogether.

**XXXXXX**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all who have kept up with this story. It seems every update I intend to make takes longer than I originally planned. I still promise all readers that every story I write will be finished. Thank you to all who have read and appreciated this story, whether you have reviewed or not.

**XXXXXX**

The ice water hit her like a gunshot (and she felt confident using that phrase, now that she actually knew the harsh reality of a bullet wound). Her lungs froze in the process of giving her air, and she tried valiantly to breathe something that wasn't liquid. She surged upwards in panicked terror, dragging in air before she inevitably crashed under the water again. She pulled at the ties holding her hands together, but they held firm.

She kicked violently, more than she needed to get to the surface again, expending energy she couldn't afford to waste. She reached out, latching onto the only thing nearby, which happened to be Walsh – and didn't her day keep getting worse?

"Get off me!" He sputtered, flailing wildly, and almost managed to dislodge her, but she was able to get her arms around his neck and hold on. As a result, he kept sinking under the water, a fact which panicked her each time since it meant she could be drawn under, too. She couldn't risk letting go, though.

Above his yelling and the two of them struggling in the water, she heard shouts and gunfire from above them on the dock. The drop hadn't been that far, only a few feet, and she thought if she could get over to the edge of the dock, she could grab hold and maybe pull herself up. Walsh apparently had the same idea, since he was not only struggling to escape her, but to get to the dock himself.

She pulled him in the opposite direction as well as she could, figuring that once he got a foothold, his first order of business would be to drown her.

They struggled for what felt like ages, but must have only been a few minutes, because if it had been much longer she knew they'd both have gone under from exhaustion.

"Nell! Move away so I can shoot him!"

She blinked the water out of her eyes to see Deeks at the edge of the pier, gun trained on them as he hesitated (and he damn well better, because if he shot her, she just might shoot him back once she got the chance).

"Yeah, good idea!" She choked out, inhaling some water for the effort. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Are you being sarcastic with me right now?" Deeks asked, incredulous. "You're right, you've got this under control, I'll just wait up here until –"

Walsh managed to aim in the general direction of Deeks and fire his gun. It missed by a significant distance.

"Whoa, man, you could have hit me!"

Walsh didn't dignify that with a response, though he did choose that moment to try another tactic and took a deep breath, submerging himself in a last ditch attempt to shake off Nell.

It worked, because she tried her damndest to stay afloat when he disappeared. She managed, with her last bit of energy, to cross the few remaining feet to the dock's edge, as Deeks scanned the water uneasily, waiting for Walsh to reemerge; he didn't.

"Don't help me out or anything," she gasped, clinging to a slightly warped board and feeling as if she'd never get enough air again.

He didn't get a chance to respond, because Callen stepped up next to him. "Hey, Nell," he said brightly, dropping to his knees and reaching a hand down for her. "You picked a hell of a time to go for a swim."

She didn't curse him out solely because it would have taken too much oxygen.

He pulled her up and she pushed with her feet against the boards, which sent her surging forward and she toppled onto him at the edge of the dock, causing him to fall. She coughed for a few minutes, trying to get all the water out of her lungs and restore her breathing to normal.

She was soaking wet, and cold, which meant he now must feel the same, since she was on top of him. He didn't stay a word, merely rubbed her back lightly and waited for her to regain herself.

"Jesus, Callen." She finally managed, once she could take a breath without feeling like her lungs were going to seize up on her. "Where were you? I was waiting for you to jump in the water and rescue me."

"I was a little preoccupied," he admitted, "…shooting people." He glanced around, and she followed his gaze. A few of Walsh's men lay around the dock with various injuries, along with others she didn't recognize (the mysterious drug traffickers?).

He sat up, bringing her with him, which meant she was sprawled rather ungraciously in his lap – not that she cared. She had other things to think about, like how she kept narrowly avoiding death, and how she had a pretty good streak going, and how luck only lasted so long.

She glanced up at Callen, and then over to where Deeks, Kensi, and Sam hovered nearby, and thought luck might have nothing to do with it.

She barely noticed when he took a pocketknife to cut the bindings around her wrists, rubbing them for a minute. They were a little red, but there was no lasting damage. Not physically, anyway; just another nightmare to add to her already growing count.

"I would have jumped in," he said, when it became clear she wasn't going to speak, "but they had me pinned down for a minute. I thought it'd be more prudent to stay alive long enough to get to you."

She looked up at him and though his tone was light, she caught the fear and regret in his words. She had no doubt that if he thought he could have gotten to her safely, he would have.

She smiled, which seemed to reassure him.

"If you want," he added, "I can toss you back in. We can have another go at it."

"Jerk," she muttered, struggling to stand. He realized her intentions and held her down, or rather, against him. His arms wrapped around her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe again, but she'd rather pass out than ask him to let go. She didn't imagine the tremor she felt in him, and she opened her mouth to speak, but lost the ability when he pressed his face into the side of her neck, his breath shaky and uneven.

All she could do was hold onto him in return, and she jerked in surprise when she realized her own arms were trembling, too.

"I thought you were dead," he murmured into her skin. "I saw you go over and I thought…you were gone."

"Takes more than a nighttime dip in the ocean to kill me, Agent Callen." She addressed him formally, slightly teasing. She wanted to make him laugh again. If he laughed, that meant he was okay.

He didn't laugh. "Are you okay?" His voice was low, unintentionally echoing her thoughts about him.

He must not know that the only way she would be okay was if he were okay. "How are you?" She asked, in lieu of answering his question, leaning back so she could really look at him.

He shook his head slowly. "Not that good."

She smiled again, tremulously, to try and fight the tears pricking at her eyes. "Yeah, I got that."

They met each other's eyes, for how long she didn't know, until Deeks cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt…"

Flashing blue lights illuminated the docks. Local police had arrived without either of them noticing. They both stood, spell broken, and if Nell had to lean slightly against Callen, neither of them mentioned it.

Kensi brought both of them blankets and told them the paramedics wanted to see Nell. She declined, and could tell Callen wanted to argue.

"In a minute," she relented, and noticed some of the tension left him at her words.

"Hey Nell," Deeks rubbed at the back of his neck, as if unsure of the wisdom in continuing. "It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but…did you stab him?"

She laughed, entirely against her will. "Yeah, with a pen."

"Where did you come up with that idea?" Deeks asked, impressed.

"Improvisation?" She tried.

"A pen?" Kensi interrupted, incredulous.

"It was the only thing I had on hand," Nell shrugged. "It didn't go that well." At their blank looks, she amended. "It was ball point."

"Should have used a fountain pen," Deeks said, helpfully.

She assessed him with fond exasperation. "I'll remember that next time."

"I'm just saying," he started, as Kensi pulled him none too gently away, and Nell sent her a silent prayer of thanks.

"Teams have spread out up and down the docks," Sam said, approaching them. "Divers are heading out to search for any sign of Walsh. Nothing yet."

Callen nodded. "I figured as much. I don't think he's going to be found until he wants to be found."

Nell shivered a little and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

Callen stepped closer and tucked some wayward strands of hair behind her ear, and she felt warmer. "He's not going to get to you again."

She recognized his words as both a promise to her and a threat to Walsh. "I know," she said, without a hint of wavering, "this time I'll be ready."

From his look, she knew that wasn't the answer he'd expected, but when he smiled slowly at her, she knew he approved.

"Where did you..." he gestured somewhere behind them, (and she knew he was indicating the previous events, not the way Deeks was irritating his former LAPD co-workers by exaggerating his own importance in the stand-off) "…learn that? Have you been taking self-defense classes or something?"

"No, just late night cable," she admitted. "_Kill Bill_ has been running for the past month. It didn't look that hard."

"The way Uma Thurman successively offs each one of her rivals in that movie 'didn't look that hard'?" He could barely get the words out with a straight face.

She grinned, maybe her first real grin since before she'd been abducted. "No, it didn't look hard," she ducked her head, before adding, "but apparently it _was_ hard."

He abruptly pulled her into another hug, and she felt a surge of affection, which she suspected was mirrored in him.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you, thank you, thank –"

"For?" She cut him off.

"Saving yourself."

"It didn't work out quite how I imagined," she admitted, unable to tear her eyes away from the water. Walsh had escaped, despite her best efforts. "I wanted to kill him," she said quietly.

"I wish you had."

She shook her head. "No, Callen. I wanted him to _die_. I wanted to feel him die at my own hands. What does that make me?"

He didn't answer.

"Someone who could willingly commit murder?" She asked, reminded of how lost she'd been after she'd been shot, how angry and hurt she'd felt. How it made her different from the person she'd been before. And now… "What does this make me? _Who _does this make me?"

A half dozen thoughts floated through his mind. He couldn't adequately categorize what he thought of her. There were too many words, it was _too much_ for him to process. She was determined, furious, beautiful. She was one of the most brilliant people he'd ever met. She had an unerring sense of justice and fairness. She'd protect others no matter the cost, even to herself. More than anything else…

"You are the person you've always been," he said vehemently. "You've simply never realized, before, the depths within you, the things of which you are capable, that which you can accomplish with enough provocation. You are unlike anyone I have ever known."

She automatically started to shake her head, in denial of something he'd said, or everything, and he cut her off. "Nell, don't you dare argue the fact that you are extraordinary."

She blinked, her face warming, and was grateful the darkness hid her blush. Before she could respond, he was continuing.

"I'm sorry," he said haltingly. "You don't know how sorry, that I had to…pretend that…"

It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to how he had feigned disinterest in her well-being, acting as if he didn't care about her. She knew why he did it, that he was looking for the best way out, for everyone. That didn't mean it hadn't hurt, but then, she knew it was supposed to.

He took her silence as condemnation. "If there had been any other way –"

"You don't have to," she said, forgiving him with those words, for something he'd had no choice over. "Have enough faith in me to believe that I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt me."

Her eyes widened fractionally when he leaned in to kiss her, and it was as if he never had before (and maybe, if she correctly interpreted the emotions he was trying to convey, he hadn't). He claimed her, his touch searing, causing her to shiver at the newly perceived coldness she felt everywhere that wasn't touching him.

Despite everything they'd been through, and all they'd experienced before now, this still surprised her – that she stirred such emotions in him, that he could feel –

Because she was just Nell, just…

She swallowed those feelings as best she could, trying to banish the self-doubt, the fear that she'd never be good enough for someone like him. She cast it aside, and focused on the present, and melted, completely, and maybe she would have been embarrassed at any other time, but she didn't have it in her. Not in this moment, tonight, with him. She was thrilled to be alive, and equally thrilled that he was safe, too. She pressed back into him as eagerly as he met her, sighing into his mouth, trying to tell him (in case he had somehow missed it) that she forgave him for everything, and always would.

She had no choice when it came to him, and that terrified a part of her – the part still concerned with self-preservation.

They were interrupted by a uniform before they could get too carried away. "Agent Garner wants to speak with you, ma'am," he told Nell, and she had no idea who that was, but she didn't care.

Callen leaned back, framing her face with his hands. "Are you okay?" He asked, again.

She took time to truly consider his question, examining him as carefully as he studied her. He was alright, now, she knew that much. She _felt_ it. And that meant… "I am," she swore. "I'm actually okay."

After the past few weeks, she had no idea how in the world that was true, but it _was_. She strongly suspected that it mostly had to do with the man in front of her.

And wasn't that something.

Nell allowed a small smile to grace her lips, and when Callen kissed it away, she didn't mind.

She was riding a post-adrenaline rush, high on the fact that she'd gotten away, and lived, and so had everyone she cared about, and she also had a very strong suspicion that she might be in love. When Callen brought her over to one of the waiting ambulances, she didn't protest.

He left her with a lingering kiss and went to talk to Sam. Kensi came a few minutes later to check on her.

She reassured her she was going to be fine, and that she was well on her way to recovery. It had been twenty minutes, maybe, since she'd been pulled from the water. Her clothes were starting to dry in the most uncomfortable way.

Kensi's phone rang, and Nell barely paid any attention when she answered, instead indulging in one of her new favorite pastimes, which was scanning the area for Callen. She found him thirty feet away, deep in conversation with Sam and some local law enforcement officers.

"Who is this?" Kensi asked sharply, breaking into Nell's haze of contentment. "I will _not _put her on the phone!"

Nell held out her hand, indicating that Kensi should follow the order. They both knew who it was.

Kensi looked about to protest, before sighing and handing over the phone, recognizing any clues Nell could get might help them find Walsh.

Nell held the phone to her ear, hesitating for a moment. "Yes?" She finally managed.

"This isn't over," Walsh said. He didn't sound angry, or frustrated, or like he wanted to kill her where she stood, which somehow made his words all the more intimidating. Rage was easy to understand, but cold, calculated threats were much harder to accept. It made her think he'd just as easily murder her as he might order a cup of coffee in the morning.

"I never thought it was over," she whispered to Walsh. She heard the minute sounds of breathing on the other end of the phone before the connection was cut.

She shook her head, wondering if Walsh honestly thought he was able to scare her at this point. He unsettled her, sure, but scared her? She had passed that point days ago. Now the only thing she felt was…numbness.

It kind of worried her, actually.

She gave Kensi her phone back, ignoring the look on the other woman's face that said she was dying to know what Walsh had said but was holding herself back out of respect for the night Nell had just gone through. Kensi wouldn't wait long though, and once she told the others…forget it. She'd be attacked with questions from every direction. She'd never escape.

That meant Nell had to get out of there as quickly as possible. She was honestly ready to throw in the towel on the whole night – the whole week – no, make it the whole month.

Kensi was still watching her. "I'm just going to…" Nell nodded in Callen's direction and Kensi smiled in understanding. Nell started to walk in his direction, glancing back a few times until Kensi had turned away, and then quickly darted to the left between several emergency vehicles. If she had a choice, she'd actually be going to speak with Callen, but she wasn't looking forward to his questions any more than the rest of her team's.

Was it asking too much for a night to herself after everything she'd gone through?

Tomorrow, she swore. Tomorrow she'd sit down with whoever wanted to speak with her, and she'd tell them everything she could. Right now, all she wanted was some time alone. Kind of ironic, actually, considering that in the past week, she'd spent 99% of the time by herself and all she'd wanted, then, was someone else with her.

Why was it that now, the only thing she wanted was to get _away _from everyone else?

Her escape was cut short by two people stepping abruptly into her path, a man and woman, both dressed way too formally for hanging around a pier at 3:17 in the morning. She knew before they spoke that they were agents, though she couldn't tell from which agency (weren't they all the same, when you got right down to it?)

"Nell Jones?" The man asked, as if he might be mistaken about her identity; as if there were a dozen women strolling around the docks who were on the relatively short side and had red hair and were wrapped up in hypothermia blankets.

"No, she's actually over there," Nell pointed at Kensi.

The man frowned, obviously unamused. "Ms. Jones," he said sternly, as if this were school and he could lecture her into obedience.

"If you know who I am, then why are you asking?" She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, wishing it could make her invisible.

She watched the man and woman exchange glances for a moment before the woman sighed. "We need to ask you some questions," the woman said, sounding reluctant. She must have lost their silent exchange.

"Who are you?" Nell asked.

Another exchange of glances. "We're with the FBI," the man told her, neglecting to mention his name.

"Agent Garner, then?" She asked, noting his blink of surprise that indicated she was right on the mark.

"If you'd come with us," he continued, neither confirming nor denying her statement, which meant he had to be Garner.

Oh hell no. She knew enough about shadowy government figures to not willingly jump into a car with one of them.

"Sorry, but I have plans tonight. Maybe another time?"

She turned to head back toward her team, but the woman quickly stepped in front of her. "It's a matter of national security."

Nell bit back the urge to scream. "_Everything's_ a matter of national security these days. As you can tell, I've had a tough night. I'm not up for an all-night interrogation at some undisclosed facility."

"That's quite dramatic, Ms. Jones," the man said. "Though inaccurate."

Nell ignored him and searched frantically for someone who could help her. Callen was directly in her line of vision and she waved at him, but Deeks was distracting him. In fact, it looked as if Deeks were _reenacting _some part of the gunfight that had taken place while she was in the water. _Of course_. As a result, neither man noticed her frantic waving.

"Please, Ms. Jones," the woman tried, taking hold of her arm and starting to steer her toward an SUV.

"How do I know you are who you say?" Nell demanded, then turned to the man. "Garner?" She placed as much emphasis on the name as she could, solely to let him know that she knew who he was.

He sighed, and glanced at his partner, and Nell wanted to rip their eyes out, because she was becoming _really _exasperated with those silent looks. "Ms. Jones," he began, stepping forward, and making the wrong move of placing a hand on her arm.

She reacted immediately in self-defense, wrenching herself away, which caused him to automatically grab for her. It only spurred her on more, and she lashed out violently, pushing as hard as she could against his hold. He lurched away from her attack in sheer reflex, and unfortunately for him, he was also closer to the edge of the pier than he realized. He wheeled almost comically backwards before falling into the water.

His partner abandoned Nell to rush to the dock's edge, frantically searching the water.

"Jesus, Nell!" Deeks yelled from behind her. She spun to see him behind her, along with Callen, Kensi, Sam, and a half dozen other emergency services personnel who had seen the commotion. "Did you just push Agent Garner into the water?"

"Um…you know that guy?" She asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach that hadn't been there moments before.

"Yeah, he's FBI, the agent in charge of the special task force that's tracking James Walsh," Deeks said, though he wasn't paying her much attention. He was too riveted on Garner's partner and two other men who were helping the water-logged agent out of the water.

"I…didn't know," she said sheepishly, wincing as Garner staggered to his feet at the edge of the pier, trying in vain to ring out his suit jacket. "That's not good."

Kensi appeared at her side. "You pushed Garner off the pier?" She couldn't hide her laughter. "Way to go, Nell!" She held up her hand for a high five, which Nell ignored. When Kensi spotted Garner glaring at the two of them as if he wanted to burn them alive, she slowly lowered her hand and started to back away, "I mean…you've got this, Nell."

"Traitor!" Nell hissed at her. She grabbed Deeks' arm, since he was closest. "You might never hear from me again," she told him gravely.

"Don't be dramatic," Deeks laughed, patting her hand, though he kept looking at Garner warily.

"I'm going to be shipped to Guantanamo," Nell wailed, as Garner made his way over to her.

"No you won't. I mean, probably not. Maybe. Send a postcard," Deeks wrenched himself free from her death grasp before she could react and backed up, leaving her to Garner's mercy. They were all traitors, then.

"Ms. Jones," Garner's voice was pure steel as he tried to keep his composure despite the fact that his clothes were dripping water onto the dock. "Let's try this again – you _will _accompany us back to headquarters to answer questions about James Walsh. That is not an option. If you come willingly, I _might _consider _not _filing assault charges against you for that little stunt you just pulled."

Nell winced, because she did feel bad about what she'd done, but in her defense, he was being a jerk about bringing her in. He didn't have to treat her like a criminal, just because she'd spent so much time with Walsh, and…her eyes snapped up to meet Garner's, and she realized in that moment that he actually _suspected_ her of working with Walsh. All regret about what she'd done to him vanished in an instant.

Her feelings must have shown on her face, because his expression hardened even further. "Get in the car," he ordered, "or do I have to handcuff you?"

She opened her mouth to tell him he could try when someone beat her to it.

"I'd like to see that," Callen said calmly from somewhere behind her. She had to literally use all of her willpower to stay rooted to her spot and not turn to latch onto him in a show of horrifyingly weak gratitude.

"Did you see what she did?" Garner yelled, stepping forward and reaching a hand out to Nell. He froze when Callen stepped closer, his entire demeanor screaming that he wanted to kill someone, and if he had to settle for an FBI agent, so be it.

"Touch her," he suggested, voice dropping ominously, "I want to see you try."

Nell shivered at his words, and to his credit, Garner knew a real threat when he faced one. He had no doubt that even if the law were on his side, he'd suffer dearly for laying a finger upon the woman in front of him. Reason was his only course of action. "She just pushed me off the pier!" He argued, once he'd gathered himself.

"Did she?" Callen shrugged. "That's funny, because I saw you accidentally slip and fall."

"Yeah," Kensi chimed in, "so did I."

"Me too," Deeks added.

Garner veritably fumed, clenching his hands into fists. "What is _wrong_ with you people? We're trying to apprehend the man who abducted one of _your _people, yet you only want to stand in our way."

"Not in your way," Callen corrected, "but between you and one of our own."

Nell felt his words wash through her and felt immensely comforted, even though she knew her team was just protecting her as they would any one of their own. That didn't make her less grateful, or less proud to be a part of them. "Sorry Agent Garner," she tried, "it was an accident."

"An accident?" He yelled, moving toward her and stopping only when his partner placed her hand on his arm. It didn't serve to restrain him, but seemed to remind him of who he was, and where he was, and the predicament they were all in. Unfortunately, it did little to curb his anger or indignation. "I could file charges against you for this!"

"Do it," Callen said calmly. "I'll gladly end your career."

"Spare me, Callen," Garner scoffed. "We both know you don't have the power to do that."

"Try me," Callen answered. "And I'll find it." _For you_, went unspoken.

Garner hesitated, apparently weighing how likely it was that Callen intended to follow through with his threat. He looked back and forth between Callen and Nell. The way Callen looked at the younger woman…it convinced him Callen would follow through on his threats, no matter the cost. There was something about the way he looked at her, the way he _was _around her, that told him she was not someone he wanted to screw with – not unless he wanted to deal with Callen, too. And he'd heard enough stories about the man to not want to deal with him (he'd survived being shot a half dozen times, for god's sake).

That didn't mean that he couldn't bluff with the best of them. "Agent Jones," he ordered, "let's go."

Nell didn't know whether to agree or not. She glanced over at Callen who nodded slightly at her.

"We'll both go," Callen informed Garner.

"I don't think so," Garner argued. "This is an FBI investigation, Agent Callen. We don't need NCIS screwing things up."

Nell bristled at his words, and Callen stepped up behind her. He paused, debating on the wisdom of his next move, before wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She automatically reached up to hold onto him. He didn't care anymore if others knew what he felt for her – in fact, he _wanted _them to know. "Let me rephrase," Callen told the FBI agent, relishing how Nell relaxed against him, "either I go with her, or she doesn't go at all."

Garner hesitated, as his suspicions about the two of them were confirmed. He recognized Callen's silent actions and the meaning behind them, and debated the best way to proceed. His partner elbowed him in the side, and he turned to glare at her, then sighed when her look told him this was the best they were going to get. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth, no doubt furious at Callen's conditions, but recognizing that arguing was futile.

Garner gestured toward his SUV and Callen shook his head. "I don't think so. We'll follow you." He led Nell over to his car. She followed Callen willingly, but judging by the look on Garner's face, she didn't know if she'd consider it a victory. In fact, she thought it just might work against her.

XXXXXX


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** Yes, I am still around, and I apologize to any who have been waiting for this chapter. I have been struggling with where to go in this story. Thanks to all who are still interested! As always, I promise it will be finished, no matter how long it takes me.

**XXXXXX**

Nell tapped her fingers on the table and stared at the wall. "So…this is fun."

She and Callen had been subjected to a lengthy questioning by various agents, and were only together because Callen had vehemently opposed being separated from her. It was an odd situation, with the FBI apparently not afraid enough of his threats to release them, but willing to let them stay together. Nell wondered if it might be professional courtesy, but figured it was more likely someone around here was terrified of Henrietta Lange.

Agent Garner had yet to appear. After not receiving the answers they expected, the last agent had left with the promise that Garner would be with them shortly.

That had been over a half hour ago.

She glanced at Callen who met her gaze and smiled. For some reason, that made her feel immeasurably better.

"They're making us wait, hoping to put us on edge," he said. "Standard interrogation technique."

"Oh really?" She took in his completely relaxed demeanor. "It doesn't seem to be working on you."

"They'll have to do better than this," he leaned closer. "How are you holding up?"

"I was just held captive by a man who I think very much wanted to kill me, and is still out there, furious that he didn't get the chance to do so. It's going to take more than sitting in a room with _you_ to upset me. In fact, I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

Callen arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly around at the drab walls and glaring fluorescent overhead lights.

She shrugged. "We've both been in worse places. This is downright homey."

At the reminder, all humor disappeared from the room. "Was it…"

Nell understood what he wanted to ask but couldn't bring himself to say. "It wasn't as bad as you're thinking, I'm sure. I was mostly kept locked in a small bedroom. Aside from being a bit stingy with food at first, and being hit a couple times…" she trailed off, unwilling to say the experience hadn't been terrible, because it had been. Yet when she thought of how much worse she might have had it, she didn't feel she had the right to complain.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this now?" He asked, low, nodding his head toward the viewing glass where they were most assuredly being watched.

"I don't care about them," she said, because she honestly didn't. The FBI were about the lowest priority she had at the moment.

He nodded. "Okay, then I need to ask, did he – did they…" Callen sighed, clearly frustrated with his sudden inability to speak. He was a trained federal agent. He'd never had any problem talking to victims of crimes, even horrific crimes. With Nell, though, he couldn't even manage the words. He had a feeling if she said what he most feared, he might do something he could never come back from, like torturing James Walsh to death without blinking an eye.

Once again she knew what he meant and spared him from having to say it. She wasn't going to hedge around the fact, either, because she never wanted him to have any doubts about exactly what had happened. "I wasn't raped or sexually assaulted, thankfully." She noticed his wince and in that moment, felt more sorry for him than for anything she'd gone through.

She knew, by now, that he'd probably spent most of the time she'd been missing imagining the worst possible scenarios of what she might be going through. And the possibility he might never see her again…she imagined it in the reverse – what she would do if he were missing and she had no idea what happened to him. The imagined terror and fear was almost paralyzing, and she had no doubt it'd be far worse if they were real.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He was staring at his hands but his head shot up at her words. "You're…" he sort of laughed and shook his head. "Nell Jones, you're…" he trailed off again, then shot forward and grabbed her chair, pulling it as close to him as he could. She jumped, startled at his sudden movement, and before she could recover, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, so sudden and sweet that she had barely responded before he let her go.

"Only you would apologize for being abducted."

"I'm sorry that you suffered," she said. "If it had been the other way around, I know I would have."

He shook his head. "God, you're beautiful."

She automatically glanced to the one-way viewing glass in the wall. From this side, she could only see her reflection, and it was decidedly…not beautiful. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, not to mention she'd lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. One side of her face had fading bruises from where she'd been hit. And her hair? Forget it. It scattered every which way around her face and she attempted to smooth it down. Overall, she looked as if…well, as if she'd been held captive for awhile. "Beautiful? I don't think I've showered in four days," she joked.

Callen met her eyes in the mirror. "Despite what you obviously think right now, you are quite gorgeous no matter your state," he said, as she felt a blush rising in her cheeks. "But just now, what I meant was…as a person, you are the most beautiful that I have ever known."

"That's…" she cleared her throat, "that's quite the thing to say. I could say the same about you."

"You _could_?" He grinned.

As usual, her own answering smile was pretty much automatic in response. She couldn't seem to control herself when it came to him. "Okay, I will say the same about you," she relented, leaning over so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

"I wish I could have traded places with you," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"I don't," she said firmly, as his fingers stilled. "I don't know if I could have gotten through what you did – the waiting, the not knowing. That would have been worse, I think."

He resumed stroking her hair. "You would have been fine," he told her. "You're strong, you always have been. If I had to choose, I'd be where you were in an instant."

"I know you would," she said, tilting her head to look over at him. "That's what makes you a good man."

He touched her head, lightly guiding it back to his shoulder, and then kissed the top of it. "You think I'm better than I am."

"I know exactly who you are," she insisted. "And I don't want to hear one word to the contrary."

"Alright, I give," he said lightly. She half-nodded, satisfied, and they lapsed into silence. He thought she was falling asleep when she spoke again.

"You want to know the worst part of it?"

"Thinking you might die?" He guessed.

"No, it was thinking that everyone I loved was suffering. I couldn't take that."

He moved his hand from her hair in order to wrap his arm around her and hold her tighter.

"And the next worst part wasn't physical – after a certain point, it didn't matter if I didn't get enough food or if I got hit from time to time because of the things I said." She felt him stiffen. "It was being alone. Completely, totally alone, for hours on end, and wondering if that was going to be how my life would end. Alone. I don't think Walsh even intended it, but the psychological part of the whole thing was the most difficult to endure."

Callen waited a minute, simply holding her.

"I know I can't undo what Walsh did," he told her. "I also know that nothing I can do will magically fix it. In fact, nothing will probably ever fix it."

"I didn't ask you to –"

"Shh," he whispered. "Let me finish. I know I can't fix it, but I do know that I can be here for you from now on –"

"Thank you," she whispered.

"In whatever way you need –"

"I know you would," she smiled at him.

"For as long as you live," he added, with slight frustration. She glanced at him in confusion. "You need to let me finish my sentences!" He exclaimed.

"That's – I –" She registered his words and abruptly shut up, staring at him expectantly.

"Now you stop?" He threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm done."

She knew she had to say something in response to what had pretty much been a declaration of – something – but her mind spun in circles and she couldn't formulate anything.

Agent Garner chose that moment to enter the room, and Nell wondered if he'd been watching them through the one-way mirror waiting for the best time to make an entrance.

"You two look appropriately concerned," he said irritably.

Nell narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there a reason why you've made us wait for so long?"

"Yeah," Garner snapped. "I had to go change into clothes that weren't soaking wet."

Nell made an effort to try and hide her amusement. She knew she wasn't successful by the way Garner glowered at her.

"Why don't we skip right to the point," Garner said, bristling. "Where is James Walsh?"

Nell rubbed her face. "I don't know. I don't know how many times I can tell your agents that, since clearly no one believes me, but it's the truth."

"You insult my intelligence, Ms. Jones," Garner shook his head. "You truly expect us to believe that?"

"Yes, I do," she tried not to yell, "because it's the truth."

"So he keeps you captive for over a week, and gives you the opportunity, numerous times, to contact your team, yet you refuse every time. And once you 'escape' from him," his tone made it clear he didn't believe a word she'd said, "he promptly calls you…merely to taunt you? Do you understand how far-fetched this sounds?"

"Actually, I do," she said, taking a deep breath when Callen took hold of her hand. "Do you really think that your accusations don't suggest anything I haven't questioned about myself over the past week? Like how could I have let my guard down enough to be captured, and how I couldn't find any way to escape, and how – yes – I made the deliberate choice not to engage in the games Walsh tried to get me to play with Callen and the rest of my team?"

She paused, glancing at Callen, who nodded slightly at her in encouragement.

"However," she continued in a stronger tone, "none of that makes me guilty of the imaginary crimes you claim I committed."

"I don't believe you," Garner declared. "And I'm going to prove it."

"Then go ahead!" She countered with exasperation. "We're waiting for your proof."

"Tell me what you know about Walsh," Garner hissed in response.

Instead of responding to the clearly agitated man with yet another truthful answer that he wouldn't believe, she turned her gaze to Callen. "Are you and Sam this irritating when you question people?"

Callen tipped his head and regarded Garner. "I like to think I have more finesse. But yeah, Sam can be this irritating."

"I'm going to tell him you said that."

"Do either of you even _care_?" Garner fumed. "Despite what you two seem to think, this is _not_ a _game_."

Nell knew he was capable of it, but it still caused a certain amount of awe in her when Callen's demeanor changed in an instant. All traces of humor vanished from his expression as he turned away from her to focus entirely on the agent in front of them.

"I'm sorry," Callen began, "but do you mean to tell me that tracking down the man who abducted one of my people is a serious matter? A matter which I should be investigating right now, instead of wasting time here with you, while you try to prove a baseless conspiracy theory?"

"Agent Callen –"

"Do you understand that she almost died?" Callen yelled, causing Nell to flinch, not at his tone, but at his words. She didn't exactly want to be reminded.

"Maybe if you allowed me to interview the two of you separately –"

Callen stood, leaning over the table. "I have already granted you tremendous leeway on this matter, not because I wanted to, but because I was ordered to by my superiors. They seem to think inter-agency cooperation is a good thing." His skeptical glance toward Nell told her exactly what _he _thought of that matter. "What they didn't order me to do is let you subject us to wild accusations that are based entirely on your imagination and no physical evidence whatsoever."

"You have to admit that it's more than suspicious that one of your top intelligence analysts would –"

"Actually, no," Callen interrupted yet again. He was still furious, but managing to keep it under better control. "Nothing she does has ever – would ever – make me suspicious of her true intentions. I _know _Nell's true intentions, and that is to serve her government and NCIS to the best of her ability. She is on our side, and you trying to paint her as a co-conspirator, or worse, a traitor, is more than unconscionable. In fact, it makes _you _the traitor."

"You're not exactly impartial, now are you?" Garner sneered, "It's quite obvious to everyone at both the FBI and NCIS that you and Ms. Jones share a personal relationship. Obviously your personal feelings are clouding your judgment."

"Callen," Nell said quickly, standing and crossing to where he'd frozen, glaring daggers at Garner across the room. She needed to stop him before he did something he'd regret. "I don't mind being interviewed alone. I have nothing to hide."

He met her eyes for a long moment. "I know you don't. That's why I can't allow it. If you say the wrong thing, something he'll twist for his own personal motives, something they'll use against you –" he heaved a sigh and lowered his voice. "Don't you see, I can't risk it. I can't risk them taking you away from me – from us. They'll throw you in a cell until they catch Walsh…and what if they never do?"

"You can't really think they'd lock me up without any real evidence," she murmured, looking over at the agent glowering on the other side of the room.

Callen put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't know that they would, but I also don't know that they wouldn't. That's why I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Despite herself, she smiled at him. "You're sweet. You know that, right?"

"I'm practical," he corrected, hugging her for the sole reason that he wanted to touch her. She sighed and shut her eyes, almost managing to forget where they were. Until Garner made himself known again.

"This is lovely," the agent said, clapping at them mockingly. "Do you want me to take a picture? You can make it your profile picture online. Better yet, we can use it in the engagement announcement."

Nell shifted away from Callen. "Look, we've been here long enough. Either you can let us go and we'll work together to catch a known killer, or you can try and keep me here without proof I've done anything wrong."

"Do you have any actual evidence?" Callen asked.

Garner pressed his lips together in a tight line and crossed his arms.

"Your threats might work on some, but you know I have a few…connections." She tried not to smile when Callen squeezed her shoulder. "Your threats don't work with me. You can be on the winning side of this thing," she paused, taking in how Garner's expression wavered slightly. "Or you can be on the losing side. It's your choice."

"Isn't she brilliant?" Callen asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He couldn't seem to stop himself from touching her lately, no matter how much he tried. Granted, he didn't try very hard.

"What are you proposing?" Garner asked warily.

"Full cooperation," Nell promised, though she tensed a bit, because she had no authority to offer any such agreement. She turned to Callen, praying he would say something. She hadn't been able to talk it over with him beforehand, but she took it on faith that he'd recognize her plan.

And he did. In that moment, all he could feel for her was admiration, and the thought crossed his mind, for the first time, that he loved this woman. But maybe that was something he'd known for awhile, and just never allowed himself to consciously think about.

Nell had seen their best way out – get Garner to voluntarily release them, or else risk spending hours, maybe days, being asked useless questions while Walsh got further and further away.

"A joint investigation," Callen offered. "Fifty-fifty. You get half the credit when we catch him."

Nell visibly relaxed and Callen leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Have I ever not had your back?"

"I need to talk this over with my people," Garner said as he left, and Nell grinned, because it was as good an agreement as they were going to get from the man.

"Well done," Callen said, as soon as the door had closed behind Garner. "Looks like we'll be getting out of here sooner rather than later."

Nell was fully confident in her capabilities. She knew she was one of the best analysts in their office. She knew how to do her job and do it well, and she took great pride in it. She didn't need compliments and praise to keep her going, but that didn't mean it wasn't appreciated. And when it came from Callen, who simply expected all his agents to be the best, it was even better.

She took a selfish moment to soak up his approval, and then, she stopped seeing herself as part of his team, and him as her boss. She looked at him as Callen, just Callen, the man she now thought she couldn't live without.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

"We're going," he promised. She didn't doubt it.

**XXXXXX**

James Walsh paced his motel room, pulling at his clothes which were a size too small. But what could you expect when you had limited time, and needed to rob the first vacant house you came across?

Too bad he hadn't been able to stay there for awhile, but when the man who lived there returned home, he'd fled. Not that he had any qualms against killing to secure a safe place to stay, but it was too high risk right now. He couldn't take the chance of someone reporting the man missing when he had every cop and federal agent in the state – and surrounding states – on the hunt for him.

And all because of Nell Jones. If she'd only cooperated and given him what he'd asked so very nicely for, he wouldn't be in this predicament.

The more he paced, the more furious he got. How could someone so insignificant have put such a huge dent in his plans? If he'd known then what he knew now, he'd have simply killed her when he first came across her. Instead, she'd successfully escaped him and put every law enforcement contact within 100 miles on alert.

Before, he'd only been concerned with accessing the technology behind the new nerve agent so he could sell it to the highest bidder. Now, even though that was still a priority (money was money, after all) he had a new top item on his list – Nell Jones. She would pay for what she'd put him through.

And he had the perfect way to get to her.

**XXXXXX**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I'm still alive! And actively working on this story. The alerts/favorites I've been getting have given me more motivation than ever to finish. I hate all unfinished stories, my own included, so I swear never to do that to anyone reading my stories.

**XXXXXX**

"Ms. Jones!" Hetty said sharply, causing Nell to spin in her chair, and knock over the glass of water near her elbow. A drink she wasn't supposed to have in ops, never mind near the computer equipment. She watched in detached horror as it saturated her entire keyboard. Maybe Hetty wouldn't notice.

She glanced up to see Hetty staring at the growing puddle as it dripped off the counter onto the floor. Alright, so she'd never been unobservant.

An uneasy silence followed. Nell wasn't in the mood to grovel – one of the side effects of nearly dying, most likely. "Can I help you?" She asked, as if her drink weren't soaking valuable equipment. Oh hell, it was just a keyboard anyways. She'd make Eric get her another from storage. Maybe she wouldn't even bother with that and just take his.

"I think it's time you called it a night," Hetty said. It wasn't a request.

"But I'm busy," Nell argued anyway. She looked around the room which was completely devoid of personnel. "Um…I have to clean up this water."

"It's one in the morning," Hetty said disapprovingly. "I allowed you to return to work under the strict condition that you didn't let finding James Walsh consume you. It does not appear as if you've followed that order."

"Hetty, I'm close," Nell insisted. "I can feel it. If you just –"

"Tomorrow is another day, Ms. Jones." Hetty came closer, placing her hand on Nell's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "He's already taken so much from you. Don't let him steal this, too."

Nell knew when she was facing an argument she wouldn't win. "Alright, I'll head out."

"Good," Hetty nodded and started to leave. At the door, she glanced back. "And do talk to Agent Callen, please. He's driving everyone crazy."

"I talk to him all the time," Nell said, feigning confusion. She knew exactly what Hetty meant. While she had no problem discussing Walsh with him, she'd been avoiding Callen on a personal level for weeks.

"You're punishing him for something that isn't his fault," Hetty said softly.

Nell shook her head. Hetty did _not_ get to pretend as if she had played no part in Nell's decision. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who was against us engaging in any type of personal relationship. You punished us when you merely suspected it, in fact."

"You will learn, with time, Ms. Jones, that everyone is capable of mistakes. Even those we think are infallible. You and Mr. Callen both see me that way, which makes it impossible for you to see when I've made an error in judgment."

"Don't do this to me," Nell said, because she'd been coming to terms with her decision, as painful as it might be, and now Hetty was ripping open the wound, even rubbing in salt as if to spite her.

"I apologize for the way I've acted," Hetty went on, as if she couldn't see how upset Nell was becoming. More likely, she did see it, and it reaffirmed her stance. "I thought the two of you together would be detrimental to you both. Now that I've seen you apart…well, I realize that you each might be what the other needs to keep going."

Nell turned away, making a show of attempting to clean up her spilled water with one of Eric's discarded sweatshirts. "Don't put the blame for this on me," she said tightly. "I'm only doing what was originally asked of me, and it makes perfect sense after many hours of serious thought. We work well together, but allowing it to become serious on a personal level only puts both of us in danger."

"Have you seen Mr. Callen lately?" Hetty asked. "He's so on edge that I think if Walsh surfaces, he's going to try and take him down alone. He has no regard for his own safety anymore. And you look as if you haven't slept in days. How are you keeping it together?"

_I'm not_, Nell wanted to say, because she was dying a little bit more each day. "I'm doing alright," is what she managed to say, instead.

"If you're going to lie," Hetty replied, "at least do us both the favor of keeping it believable."

When Nell turned to respond, Hetty was gone. She closed her laptop in defeat.

The topic of her and Callen was one which made her equal parts furious and…sad. She'd been avoiding him for weeks. It had helped that he was working tirelessly (like all of them) to find any lead that would bring them to James Walsh. He'd tried talking to her, and she rebuffed him at every opportunity. The last thing they needed was the complication of personal feelings when they were in the middle of a case trying to find the man who had abducted her. Callen seemed to understand – at the very least, he'd taken to leaving her alone.

She would have been impressed with her resolve, if not for the fact that she missed him. Terribly. And she had only herself to blame for that.

It was enough to make her wonder, alone at night, if she'd thrown away the best thing she'd ever (almost) had.

She hated her apartment now. She'd stepped inside three weeks ago, realized instantly that she couldn't be there anymore, gathered a few essential items, and walked back out.

She was staying at a hotel. Not that she could really afford to live there indefinitely, but her parents kept sending her money, probably a side effect from her nearly dying and the fact that they had no idea what to do about it to make her or themselves feel better. They wouldn't stop, no matter how much she said she didn't want it or need it. And once she'd decided she couldn't be in her apartment anymore, she'd decided she may as well put it to use, since they wouldn't take it back.

Everyone asked how she was. She wasn't too positive or negative, settling for a middle ground along the lines of "getting better" because she'd found it was the perfect answer to dissuade further questions.

No one knew where she was living, save for the security detail she'd vehemently protested, but which refused to leave her. She hadn't bothered talking about it with anyone. What was there to say? That she was too uncomfortable in her own home to ever go back? It sounded pathetic. She hated thinking it, never mind admitting it to someone else. Especially to the people she worked with, people who were much stronger than her. What if they thought less of her? They'd never admit it, but even _she_ thought less of herself for her weakness.

So she spent every day at work tracking down leads, and when someone suggested she finally retire for the night, she went back to her hotel. She never saw those who were following her every move, but she knew they were there – Callen never would have left her alone for a second if they weren't.

Work was good, it was easy. It allowed her to focus and remember who she was in a way that nothing else did.

Well, almost nothing else.

Her phone rang, and she jumped, because no one called at 3 am if it wasn't something important.

When she saw it was Callen, she debated ignoring it, but most of her wanted to know what he had to say. "Hi?" She cursed herself for making it sound like a question.

"Hey, open the door."

Nell shook her head. He was going to figure out she wasn't at home, and that would lead to more questions and conversations she simply didn't want to have. "I…can't."

"I can talk you through it," damn him, he sounded amused. "Walk over and unlock the deadbolt. Then turn the knob. Then, if you just pull it toward you –"

"You think you're hysterical, don't you?" She asked, finding herself drawn back to the place they always were, and missing him with a hurt she had been ignoring for weeks.

"I have my moments." He was smiling, she could tell.

She waited a beat, pressing the phone to her forehead and sighing. "I can't," she repeated. "I'm not there."

"Is that some kind of existential statement?"

"No, it's quite literal."

"Just open the door."

"I'm not at home right now," she hedged, thinking of a half dozen scenarios he might find plausible. She had run out to get dinner, or was tracking down leads, or had a date. No, better stick with something possible. Something vague. "I'm out...having…a social life." She cringed, thinking such awkwardness was probably the very reason why she did _not_ have more of a social life. Not that Callen had to know that.

He laughed. He actually _laughed_, as if it were impossible she could be out. In the world. With other people.

"It's not impossible," she said tightly.

"I'm not laughing at – Nell, please." He sounded contrite. "I only want to see you."

"That's too bad," she said, still stung from his laughter as she walked to the door. "Because there's no way you…" she trailed off as she saw him through the peephole. This was ridiculous. She flung the door open _solely_ so he would feel the full effect of her glare. "I booked this room under a false name, _and_ from a secure web server not even associated with NCIS!" There was always the possibility that someone from her security detail had informed Callen of her whereabouts, but knowing him it was far more likely that he'd tracked her down on his own, solely because he wanted to.

The look he gave her said more than words, reminding her she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. It was a rare thing in her life to be matched or even surpassed. Callen had been meeting her every step of the way for a long time now, and she'd been nothing more than foolish to think he might not do so this time, too. The only hope she'd had was if he hadn't bothered trying in the first place.

"Nice room," he said, walking past her and glancing around. "In a nice hotel…you have expensive taste."

She could have replied with any number of smart comebacks, but found herself replying with brutal honesty instead. "I wanted the security."

He turned to face her in a sharp, sudden movement that left her on edge. "Did you?" He asked, and she was taken aback by the sudden hostility in his voice.

"I…yes," she said, confused. From the hardness in his eyes, she could tell this was it – he was going to push it, demand answers, and she didn't know if she was terrified or thrilled.

"Security…" he said, tapping his fist lightly on the wall as if testing the structural integrity. Hell, maybe he was. "Security that you couldn't find with me."

She was surprised. Is that what he thought? "This has nothing to do with you. And if you hadn't noticed, there's an entire team of people in this hotel dedicated to tracking my every move and keeping me safe."

He took a deep breath, and she wanted to cry because she knew he was trying to remain calm for her sake. "I don't care about them. We both know you could evade them at the slightest moment if you wanted to. The fact is that you're hiding from our whole team here…hiding from me. You're working yourself to death and avoiding me at every turn. That has _everything_ to do with me."

He was right, in a way. The very reason she hadn't opened up to him was because of the way she felt for him. But not for the reasons he seemed to think. There wasn't a lack of trust, just a lack of willingness on her part to drag him into something for all the wrong reasons.

"Relationships –" she cringed, because simply saying the word carried all kinds of connotations that he might not appreciate. But she had no better word. "– that begin under stressful circumstances are notoriously…" She shut her eyes, because this was _hard_.

He was watching her carefully, saying nothing, and she decided to start again. "I don't want you to become stuck in something that you didn't…actually…intend to…" She shrugged helplessly. "I thought if we waited until things had settled, until Walsh was caught, then we could reevaluate without all the pressure. Without…"

"I _know_ you aren't trying to tell me how I feel about you, or why."

Actually, she kind of was. Which they both very well knew.

Her frustration led to the only available outlet: unjustified anger. "I'm trying to do what's best for both of us, and you with your questions and demands and – and – _feelings_," she spat as if the word were distasteful, "aren't helping!"

He took another step toward her. "Maybe I'm not trying to help you," he countered, quietly.

Well damn, what was she supposed to make of that? "I don't understand."

"I refuse to help you talk your way out of this," he said vehemently, and moved forward so that her back was pressed against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of her, effectively boxing her in, giving her no physical options in order to make her think that, emotionally, she had no options either. He wasn't the only one aware of intimidation techniques.

She slammed her heel down on his foot, simply to make a point. He winced, but to his credit, he didn't move either. "Damn it, Nell. That hurt."

She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "Good," she said succinctly, crossing her arms. "I could do so much worse," she added in a whisper. The threat was physical, but he understood what else she was saying.

"Do you get how amazing it is that _you_ are the one warning _me_ about being hurt? By all rights, it should be the other way around. I do have the advantage, here."

"One hit and you'd be down, Agent Callen," she said calmly, and now she _was _only speaking physically, because she thought she saw too much amusement in him to let it go.

He leaned in closer, until his words were barely a whisper along her temple. "I dare you."

She stood up on her tiptoes, inching closer to him and shutting her eyes. Her lips had barely touched his when she lashed out, aiming for his solar plexus. She almost had him, but he realized in the last split second what she intended, and just barely blocked her move by grabbing her wrist and spinning her around, pinning her again, this time facing away from him. "Jesus, Nell, you're tough."

She bent just so and kicked backwards at his leg, forcing him to release his hold on her and back away to avoid injury. She increased the distance between them a little bit more. "I'm an NCIS agent."

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten."

"Haven't you?" She asked, the subtext clear. A relationship between them could cause all kinds of problems. Problems of the kind they weren't equipped to deal with. Problems that might not be worth the hassle, the paperwork, the reactions from co-workers, the threats of reassignment. Not to mention how it would change the way they worked together, how they reacted if the other were in danger. It – they – could be a liability to each other.

This was what she'd been avoiding for the past few weeks. This very conversation. The terrifying and very real possibility that it would go exactly the way she didn't want it to go: that everything she had, everything she was, and was willing to give, would be summarily evaluated and dismissed as lacking.

He interrupted her discouraging line of thought. "I would never ask you to be anyone other than who you are."

"What if this…" she couldn't quite say _I'm_, "…isn't enough?"

"Enough of what? Enough _for _what?" He sounded genuinely concerned. "The only thing I'm asking for here is _you_."

He truly didn't get it. She was almost at the point that she didn't want to argue it any further. It would be easy to give in, to give up, but that had never been in her nature.

"It's still a bad idea, you know. I don't think it's worth it, at least not now. Hetty was right. Whatever this is, it would probably end badly. We'll most likely regret it. I'm not saying this to be hurtful, I'm being practical. I've had some time to think on it, and I really think we should focus on Walsh instead of…us. He's the priority."

Callen walked over to the window that looked out onto the city. She waited a few minutes, trying to remain patient, not knowing whether she wanted him to agree with her or not. She was doing her best to talk him out of this. She had a hundred valid reasons for that, but God help her, she hated every single one of them.

She was about to demand a response when he turned back around, face blank. "You're right."

"Oh," she said, rather ineloquently. "Well…I know."

"It's not worth the potential problems that could arise," he said, nodding. "I'm glad you talked some sense into me."

"Right, yeah," she said, dazed. She really had never thought about what might happen if he agreed with her. In fact, she'd expected him to fight her tooth and nail. She had no idea where to go now. "Maybe after everything's over, and we've caught Walsh, then…" she cursed herself for sounding hopeful, even as he was shaking his head.

"No, you make perfect sense. Does it really matter what case we're working on? No matter what, from now on, it will make things more difficult. Complications will arise, it'll be…what did you say? Not worth it. Yes, those were your words."

"Did I say that?" She asked numbly. She didn't remember saying that.

"Yup, you're not worth it, I see that now."

Nell saw red. "You son of a bitch," she whispered.

"Isn't this what you want? Why aren't you celebrating? Didn't you want to talk me out of wanting to be with you? You won."

She stepped forward, maybe to hit him, or pull him closer, she honestly couldn't say. Whatever she wanted, she'd never know, because he grabbed her wrists the second she was in his personal space and successfully restricted all her movement.

"You must think very little of me," he hissed, "if you believe that I'd allow you to talk me out of every feeling, every thought and intention and desire I've ever had for you."

"I'm trying to protect us," she said, voice rising because she'd had time to think about it, away from the emotionally volatile place she'd been in right after her abduction. Which wasn't to say she still wasn't emotionally fragile, but she saw things with a clarity she'd either ignorantly or intentionally chosen to ignore before. She knew she was right, and he had to know it, too. "Our professional relationship, our place in NCIS, this could _ruin_ _everything_."

"No, it couldn't," he argued, "I wouldn't let it."

"You are too smart to believe that," she insisted. "I know you are."

"Fine!" He exploded. "It _could _very well ruin everything, is that what you want to hear? It might destroy our jobs, but you know what? _I don't care_, because I'm willing to give up NCIS, but I'm not willing to give up _you_!"

The fight left her at his words, and it didn't matter whether he'd meant to say them or not. He was still holding onto her, somewhat desperately, and she twisted her wrists to get him to relinquish his grip. "You don't mean that. You will _not_ give up your career for me."

"No, I'm not, I'm simply saying that if it's a casualty of _us_, then I don't care. Because you mean more to me than NCIS."

"Liar," she whispered, because she couldn't mean that much to him. She didn't know how to deal with the responsibility of that.

"I am," he said, "but not about this."

She shook her head. She would not accept the weight of such a decision. She would do whatever it took to get him to see that. "I don't love you."

"Who's the liar now?"

"I don't," she insisted.

"Liar."

"No," she argued, shoving him backwards as hard as she could. She caught him by surprise, and he moved back a few feet. "Don't give up your life because of me."

"I'm not giving up anything," he swore, stepping back into her space again. "Not my job, and certainly not you."

She pushed him again out of sheer frustration. "I won't do this."

He stepped forward yet again. "I think we both know it's too late for that."

She reached out to shove him back and he side-stepped her, swearing. "Stop pushing me! Why are you so violent?"

"Because you won't listen to me!" She cried in frustration.

"On the contrary, I'm listening perfectly well, to all the things you aren't saying."

She recognized when she was on the losing side of a battle, but she tried, one last time, to prove her point. She put her hands on him, without any force, and he obediently backed up a few steps. "I didn't push you away that time," she said, warily.

"You didn't have to," he replied. Upon seeing her confusion, he moved forward carefully, until he saw that she was fine with it. "I don't intend to force you to do anything you don't want to do. But that doesn't mean I won't keep trying to get you to see my way, even it takes me days, weeks, months –"

"Decades?" She interrupted.

"I wasn't planning that far, but okay."

She kissed him, because it was either that or cry. He matched her perfectly, and when her back hit the wall, she barely noticed. And when he tilted his head, cupping the back of her neck and deepening the kiss to a place where he was saying without as many words that she completely belonged to him, she couldn't believe she'd tried to talk him out of this.

He broke away to kiss his way down her neck, and she had no complaints until he paused to breathe "I win" against her skin. And really, she couldn't be blamed for not letting that stand.

"Ow," he complained, rubbing his side where she'd pinched him.

"Sorry," she tried (and failed miserably) to sound innocent. "Did that hurt?"

"Now you're asking for it," he growled, as she backed away, laughing.

The next time she hit the wall, it was because she wanted it as much as he did.

**XXXXXX**

A phone vibrating next to her ear woke Nell from a very pleasant dream. She irritably hit the button to answer. "What?" She said, none too happily. She hated waking up, and she always made it a point to make the person who woke her suffer.

There was a silence on the other end of the phone that lasted too long. By the time she recognized something was off, Sam's voice was saying, "Well, this isn't Callen."

She hastily tossed the phone in Callen's direction. Unfortunately for him, he was asleep, and it hit him in the head.

"Are you serious, Nell?" He asked, rubbing his forehead as she mouthed her apologies and he fumbled for the phone. Sam was talking to no one on the other end.

He caught the tail end of Sam's last question. "– good night?"

"Best night," Callen corrected, throwing an arm over Nell as she tried to slide out of the bed in horror at the fact that she'd answered his phone and given everything away. She was turning quite the shade of red, and Callen winked at her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm pretty sure is the mortification of our favorite analyst," Sam was saying, "but you two have to come in. We got a lead on Walsh."

"Where?"

"Just come in, it can wait 'til you two get here." Callen didn't know about that, but he trusted his partner not to steer him wrong, and ended the call.

Nell was once again trying to slip out of bed. He leaned over to stop her progress and kiss her good morning. "Want a job as my personal answering service? You do it so well."

"Shut up," she muttered, embarrassed. "I thought it was my phone. What did Sam want?"

"Walsh," he said, resting his forehead against hers when he felt her tense. "A lead, he wouldn't say more, wants us to come in."

"That's what we wanted, right?" She hated that she didn't sound as sure as she meant to.

He leaned down to kiss her near her ear, and the next words were barely audible, but she heard them as if he were yelling in a silent room. "I'll kill him for you. Is that what you want?"

In answer, she kissed him, because she couldn't quite bring herself to say no.

**XXXXXX**

I'm so close to finished, I promise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **I swore I'd finish and I did! I sincerely apologize to anyone who waited for the end of this story. If it helps, finishing this has weighed on my mind for the past year, as I wondered how to end it. I decided that I wouldn't post anything more until it was finished, so this is the end. And I kept my promise to finish any story I started, even though this took me much longer than I intended. To those still around who have followed this from the beginning, sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy the ending.

**XXXXXX**

Nell couldn't believe what she was hearing. Actually, she sort of could, but it was infuriating all the same.

"It's too dangerous," Callen repeated, and though he didn't outwardly show it, she could tell (his eyes, his tenseness, the way he leaned slightly toward her) that he was getting angry. "You shouldn't be there."

"Honestly, I don't want to go," she told him, wondering if everyone could see the abject truth of that statement. "But I have to do this."

"You don't _have _to do anything," he argued, "especially not if I'm ordering you to stay here."

"You can't order me to do anything!" She shot back, feeling her blood pressure start to rise.

Deeks cleared his throat from somewhere off to her right. "Actually, Nell, he _can_ order you to stay here."

Nell turned to pin him with a death glare. He held up his hands in surrender and backed up a few steps. "Kensi, save me."

His partner responded by shoving him, hard, in Nell's direction.

"Ow," he wailed dramatically, rubbing his arm. "That's going to bruise. What's our policy on workplace harassment, again?"

"I'll show you harassment," Kensi threatened.

Deeks smirked. "Actually, could you? I think I'd enjoy that."

"Seriously?" Callen arched a brow at them and Nell couldn't hide her smile. As if he sensed her amusement, he spun back to Nell. "You're still not going."

Sam interjected, trying to play peacemaker before Nell could escalate her argument. "G's just concerned for you, Nell. We all are. Facing Walsh again? If you don't have to do it, then you shouldn't."

Nell took a deep breath and reminded herself they were trying to look out for her. That didn't make their ultimatums any easier to tolerate, though. She knew it wasn't their intention, but it stung that they kept insisting she shouldn't accompany them to take down Walsh. It felt like they thought she wasn't capable of being an effective field agent. She knew that wasn't how they meant it, but it was still how their protests came across.

"I know I'm not usually in the field," she allowed, trying to radiate the calm that would cause them to relent, "but I've kept up my certification, and I've more than proven myself capable in the past few years. In the past few months, especially."

Callen winced at the reminder of her close encounters with Walsh. "We all know that, but getting this close to him again…I can't help but think it's an unnecessary risk."

Nell appreciated his concern, and in any other circumstance she would have relented and agreed to stay behind, but this time, she just couldn't do that.

"I'm coming with you," she said again, silently willing him to understand it. She was proud of how steady she sounded, when the only thing she wanted to do was plead with them to try and see where she was coming from.

Callen must not have understood her silent pleas, as he only got more agitated. "You're not; you're staying here if I have to tie you up!" He declared.

The entire room seemed to freeze, everyone holding their breath in some bizarre suspended animation as they processed Callen's words. No one was more stricken than he was, though, and Nell started shaking her head as she moved to stand right in front of him. She reached out to grasp one of his hands as he opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

"No, don't. It's okay. I know you didn't mean that how it sounded. And," she added, glancing around, "no one has to worry that I'm going to break because of an ill-advised choice of words." She ignored the way everyone sheepishly looked away from her, unwilling to admit they had been thinking that very thing. The only person she cared about in that moment stood right in front her.

She was close enough to Callen to hear his slight exhale of relief, and she knew he'd been horrified by his own words.

"Maybe next time think twice before threatening to detain someone who was only recently held captive by a sociopath?" She couldn't resist teasing him, because her automatic instinct was to try and lighten the mood. She regretted it when he only paled further and tried to pull his hand out of hers.

"Nell," he breathed, her name barely a whisper. He shook his head, seemingly at a loss of how to go on.

"I'm kidding," she said, leaning into him, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her in return. She lowered her voice so that only he could hear. "You and I both know that I was trained for this kind of thing, just like the rest of you were. You can't keep me from seeing this through to the end. If you were in my place, you know you'd insist on doing the same thing."

She felt him breathe quietly next to her ear for a few moments. "I know, you're right. Try to see it from my perspective, though. I thought I lost you before. Then I found you, and it was like a miracle, like someone had woken me from my worst nightmare and answered all my prayers. And now you want to deliberately put yourself in danger, I just…I don't know what to do. If something happened to you, I don't know how I would…"

Nell shut her eyes and tightened her own hold on him. "I know what you're saying, but it doesn't change anything. I still need to go with you. Nothing is going to happen to me."

"You can't promise that."

"No, but you can't promise me your own safety, either, and when has that ever stopped you?"

He thought about that for a moment, realizing he had no good response. He tried anyways. "When I make that promise…I'm promising to be as careful as I possibly can, to do everything in my power to come back safely."

"And I make the same promise, even though there's no guarantee." She leaned back, moving her hands so that she held onto both his arms and had his full attention. "We chose this life, both of us. We chose to be NCIS agents, knowing it was a dangerous job, but we both wanted to help this country, to help its citizens. I don't regret that."

"I don't either," he said, and she smiled at the conviction in his voice, loving him even more.

"You know as well as I do that there are no guarantees with anything, Callen." She swallowed as he took hold of her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It felt like he was trying to reassure himself of her presence. "Anyone can die any day, everyone knows that. No one can ever promise they are going to be fine, and safely return to the people who love them. It's awful, but that's just the way our world is."

Callen nodded. "I know that, Nell. I don't like to think about it, but I know."

"Then you also know that it's going to be dangerous for me to come with you, just as it's dangerous for you and for Sam, Deeks, and Kensi. Just like it's dangerous for all of you every single time you go out into the field. But I'm coming with you, because if anyone has a right to see James Walsh brought to justice, it's me. I have to do this, as much as you do."

Callen sighed, hating what she said, but knowing it was true all the same. "Okay," he relented.

"Okay?" She asked, confused at his change of heart. She had a half dozen more arguments planned to get him to see her point of view. "I wrote a list..." she muttered, checking her pockets.

"I love you," he said, inwardly smiling at the way her entire body stilled momentarily when he said it. Sometimes he wondered if she still didn't quite believe him; it only gave him more incentive to say it as often as possible. "I know that I don't get to control you. You make your own decisions, even if I hate them."

She smiled slightly, and though she didn't want to argue with him and make him reconsider, she was still confused. "You could order me to stay here if you wanted to, though."

He nodded. "That's true, but I was coming at this personally, instead of objectively, like I should be. I could still order you to stay here, but I won't do that to you. Not when there's no valid reason for me to keep you here and I know this is something you need to do. The only reason to order you to stay behind is if I thought you weren't going to be able to handle coming along, that your emotions might compromise you or the rest of us. I know that isn't an issue."

He said the last part as a statement, but she saw it as the veiled question that it was. "No, it isn't an issue," she said firmly.

"Good," he nodded and gestured for Eric to come forward and start laying out their plans to apprehend Walsh. Despite all they'd just said, Callen couldn't help but keep looking at Nell, the feeling of dread in his stomach intensifying with each minute that passed.

**XXXXXX**

"Of course it would end at a warehouse," Nell muttered wryly. "Why change things up for novelty's sake?"

"Are you narrating this?" Callen asked from a few feet to her left. She hadn't realized he'd heard her.

"Um, no," she blatantly lied, ignoring his look of amusement.

Deeks stepped up between Callen and Sam, putting one hand on both of their shoulders. "Come on, you guys are great at this kind of thing – easily defended from the inside, poor vantage points for us, seemingly no way for all of us to get in and out alive, yet we always do – you should be right at home."

Callen ignored him and turned to Nell. "I wish you'd go back behind the perimeter." He'd relented to her coming along, but that didn't mean he wanted her directly in the line of any potential fire.

"Not a chance," she shot back, just as vehemently. She'd come this far, there was no way she would back down now.

"Watch your back," he said, motioning for her to accompany him to the front entrance. Sam, Kensi and Deeks left to move around back, and other SWAT team members were fanning out around the building. It didn't seem like any alarms had been raised, so if Walsh had allies inside, there probably weren't many.

Callen didn't want to let Nell out of his sight, which was why his plan had them breaching the building together. He figured it went against all kinds of protocols for him to partner the two of them together on an operation when they were personally involved, but he also made it a point to avoid reading most protocols. And rules for that matter. It made things a hell of a lot easier. Well, for him at least, not usually so much for Hetty.

Nell followed his motions without question and stepped up beside him at the front entrance. He couldn't resist reaching out to brush his hand along her face, and she shut her eyes briefly. He supposed he should have cared that the men behind them were watching them, but he didn't.

"Ready?" He whispered, and at her nod, he waited another few moments, listening to the comms. Once everyone was set in place, he counted down with his fingers and then kicked open the door at the same time as all the other teams breached the building.

After that, it was instant chaos. The sound of gunfire filled the air, as well as distant shouts from deep inside the building. Nell couldn't tell if it was from Walsh, any potential collaborators he had, members of her team, the SWAT team, or any other innocent people who happened to be in the building. Their surveillance hadn't indicated anyone else in the vicinity, but surveillance could always be wrong.

Smoke filled the air and she knew that was courtesy of the SWAT team, but it was disorienting even though she'd been expecting it. She ducked down behind some packing crates and forced herself to breathe slowly despite her pounding heart and rapidly escalating feelings of fear and anxiety.

She'd been through a lot in the past few months, enough that she'd thought she'd be more prepared for a return to the field.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

She raised her arm to cover her face as she started coughing. Her eyes watered from the smoke and she suddenly felt like she couldn't get enough air. She didn't know where anything or anyone was, and as she began to panic, Callen dropped down to crouch at her side.

"You okay?" He asked urgently.

Just hearing his voice was enough to start calming her and she nodded even though she felt anything but okay.

"Stay close," he said, in a tone she had never heard before. She tried to meet his eyes but he was already looking away from her, scanning the surrounding area with intense and deadly focus. She realized that she had never really seen him in the field, at least, not in any situation like this. He was completely focused, and it was somewhat scary.

He stood and she automatically followed suit, not wanting to get lost in the warehouse. She followed him as he moved from spot to spot with a quickness that she found hard to keep up with.

She had become so used to the background noise that it was a jarring change when the gunfire stopped and an eerie silence engulfed the building.

"What's going on?" She whispered.

Callen shook his head, either as an indication that he couldn't answer or he didn't know – she had no idea.

The smoke was starting to clear, but since several smoke bombs had been set off, it was still difficult to see more than a few feet. Nell prayed the sudden silence was a good sign, but she didn't have the best feeling about it.

"Callen, do you –" She broke off abruptly at the sound of a click right behind her. Thought it barely registered for its quietness, the intensity of it had her shutting her eyes and cursing everything. Maybe even herself for insisting she come along for this.

"Nell!" Walsh said cheerfully from behind her, where he held his gun to her head. "I was hoping to see you again after the terrible way we parted before."

"You mean when I escaped from you?" She asked, ignoring the sense of self-preservation that was begging her to stay quiet. From the look on Callen's face, she knew he was feeling the exact same way and didn't want her to speak.

Walsh just laughed and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to stand up next to him. "I always did love your acerbic wit. Give me your weapon."

Nell didn't really know what was witty about saying she had escaped from him, but she said nothing to that effect as he took her gun.

"Your problem is with me, not her," Callen said with forced calm. Nell would have kissed him, if she could.

Walsh merely laughed, and Nell flinched at the desperate sound of it. "Are you sure about that?" He leaned in so he could speak right into her ear, "because I think I do have a problem with her."

Nell shuddered and watched Callen's hands tighten around his weapon, currently aimed at Walsh. She found herself praying that neither of the men would do something drastic, and also recognized that was a futile wish when one of them loved her and the other wanted nothing more than to kill her.

"You're looking lovely this evening, Agent Nell Jones," Walsh continued. Without warning, he hauled her even closer against him so that she was pressed along the length of his body. His actions had the added benefit of mostly shielding him from Callen, while his gun never wavered from where it was pressed to the back of her head. "After the abrupt way we parted, I have to admit I was left longing for more time with you."

She wanted to close her eyes at his thinly veiled sexual threat, but forced herself to look at Callen instead, willing him to understand – she knew Walsh said it as a ploy to try and enrage Callen. He wanted Callen to do something rash and tip the balance in his favor. Walsh had never showed any interest in her that way; if he had, he could have hurt her many times over back when he'd held her captive.

Callen still looked in control of himself. He hadn't wavered in the slightest, and against all odds, she relaxed at that. She had absolute faith in him and his ability to get both of them out of this. Maybe it wasn't realistic, but it was still something she believed.

"I love you," she said, registering the way Callen's eyes softened at her words, ignoring how Walsh tightened his grip on her and hissed some more vague threats. Maybe it was a result of the imminent danger she knew herself to be in, a way for her mind to disconnect, but in that moment, she didn't care about anything other than Callen. Her most important priority was for him to know, to understand, how much he meant to her.

The rest of their team was slowly closing in; she caught glimpses of them and the SWAT team out of the corner of her eye. She didn't know if they would help or hurt the situation, but she was in no position to control them either way.

A violent explosion from somewhere behind them gave Nell an unexpected opportunity – she dropped to the ground when Walsh's hold on her loosened slightly, and immediately rolled sideways, evading his grasp. He wasn't quick enough to hold onto her, and when he reached for her and came up with air, she wanted to laugh at him. Well, either that or shoot him between the eyes. Probably both.

She hurriedly stood up next to Callen, reveling in her triumph at getting away, even if "getting away" only meant moving a few feet out of Walsh's reach. Still, he knew he'd lost his advantage, and since his gun was no longer aimed at her head, he couldn't risk moving the aim without being shot. He slowly lowered it to the ground and raised his arms in surrender.

"Looks like you've got me this time," he said, somehow still sounding superior despite being forced to give up.

She glanced at Callen and drew in a slow breath at his intensity – he hadn't lowered his gun and had a bullet ready to end Walsh at the slightest provocation. In fact, it seemed to Nell like he was waiting for any excuse he could find to kill the other man.

"Nell." He said quietly, and her name was a question, a declaration, a promise, a vow. It could be a beginning, or it could be an ending. It was whatever she wanted it to be. She knew that if she wanted, it would be the end of Walsh. Walsh seemed to know it, too, as his eyes flicked back and forth between them.

Nell thought about it, she really did. But asking Callen to kill someone for her…it was a line even she couldn't – wouldn't – cross. No matter how much she wanted it.

"I want you to kill him. I do," Nell said softly, leaning toward Callen and stopping just short of touching him. "But this is not who you are."

"It is," he said adamantly, gripping his weapon tighter, imagining how wonderful it would feel to pull the trigger. He wanted, desperately, to end the life of the man who had terrorized Nell – not his co-worker, fellow agent, or friend – but _Nell_, the woman he loved. "You seem to think I haven't killed anyone before."

"I know that you have," she said, recognizing the slightly haunted look in his eyes. She wondered if anyone else knew about that, but she couldn't dwell on it now. "You've killed in the line of duty."

"Because it's my job."

"Because it was the right thing to do," she corrected, emphasizing each word a little more strongly than necessary, but wanting him to really hear her words. "You've killed to save people, to protect them, to protect yourself. You've done what needed to be done." She waited until he looked at her. "But you will _never_ be the person who kills an unarmed man just because you want him to die."

"Maybe that's who I am today," he said, tightening his hold on his weapon.

"It is _never _who you are. Not on _any _day," she spoke with a conviction she hadn't known she possessed. "I know who you are. Killing a man in cold blood, no matter what he's done to anyone, to _me_ –" she had to pause as her voice broke, "– nothing justifies this. You can never come back from this."

"What if I don't want to come back from this?" It was only because she was watching him so closely that she noticed the fine tremble in his hands.

Nell swallowed, wondering for the first time if she was having an argument that she might end up losing. Self-doubt began to creep in, a thought she hadn't entertained before that moment. Maybe she really couldn't talk him down. Maybe there was nothing she could say to get him to let Walsh go. The thought caused tears to well in her eyes, because she knew the driving force behind this was her. His love for her._  
><em>

Walsh chose that moment to be particularly unhelpful. "You want to kill me Agent Callen? Exact justice? It's perfectly within your right, you know."

"Do you _want _to die?" Nell spun to face him. Just hearing his voice caused her rage to reignite.

"Maybe I do," he admitted. "What else do I have to look forward to? A lifelong stay at a nice government facility? Going to trump up some terrorism charges to have me locked away without a trial?"

"Shut. Up!" Callen warned. He sounded too out of control for Nell's liking. It was the kind of reckless anger that she feared would cause him to do something just because he had been goaded into it. She had known him for a long time, seen him in all variety of stressful situations – situations much more intense than this, where innocent people's lives were on the line – and still, she had _never _seen him look the way he did right then.

She knew it was because of her that he was becoming so undone, and the thought somehow terrified her, humbled her, and thrilled her all at the same time. She didn't want him to do something crazy because of her, but it was a strangely powerful feeling to know she had that effect on someone. On _him_.

She had to mentally shake herself and figure out another way out of this.

"I know you think you're doing this for me," she said carefully, fighting the insane urge she had to try and wrestle his gun away from him. She could not let him throw his life away on someone like _Walsh_, of all people.

Her words got his attention. Callen shifted his weight back a step and looked at her warily. "What do you mean, _everything _I have done is for you." He sounded hurt and…betrayed. As if he couldn't possibly understand how she wouldn't know that he had risked his career by going against regulations. He had risked his _life_ to find her when she was missing and to ensure her safety afterwards.

Nell wanted nothing more than to take back her words, but the situation had gone too far and she wouldn't risk doing anything that would give him an excuse to kill Walsh while she and the rest of their team watched.

"You're not doing this for me," she nodded toward where he was holding Walsh at gunpoint. "You're doing this for yourself."

"How can you _think_ that?" He was almost yelling.

Nell let out a silent breath to strengthen her resolve. "You've dedicated your entire life to protecting those in need. You've protected me, I'm not denying that. But look around, Callen. Right now, I'm not the one who needs protecting."

He clenched his jaw and visibly gathered himself before speaking. "You're saying Walsh needs protection." The absolute bitterness in his words shook her, but she couldn't back down. Sam, Deeks, Kensi, and the rest of SWAT were watching her in absolute silence, and she felt the pressure on her to end this, along with something else – their complete faith in her; their faith that she was the one person who could get through to Callen in that moment.

"No, Walsh doesn't need protection." She steadied herself. "You do."

"Me." His tone was filled with disbelief.

Nell gestured around them to where the other members of their team were fanned out in the room. She knew that their silence, their lack of response – it wasn't a failure to act, it was a measure of their trust in her, their faith that she could resolve this situation. It gave her a confidence she didn't know if she truly felt. But she would believe it, because of them.

"I'm not telling you what to do. You decide that on your own." She let out a shaky breath, getting right to the heart of it. "We need you," she said simply. "I need you." She trusted that he would make the conclusion on his own – that if he killed Walsh, he would be gone from them. Though willing to overlook numerous things, none of them were naïve enough to believe their superiors would overlook Callen killing an unarmed man trying to give himself up for arrest. He would lose his badge at the very least, maybe be imprisoned at the worst, if they felt like proving a point.

That was the ultimate issue, wasn't it? He had to choose to get his revenge and leave them, or choose to back down and stay with them. There was nothing more she could say – he knew the consequences for whatever he decided. If that still wasn't enough for him to stop, then she had done everything she could.

Callen shifted slightly, met her eyes, and what he saw there made him pause. Her eyes. Filled with a mixture of sorrow, fear, and overshadowing those – faith. _In_ _him_. He didn't know if he'd ever seen that much devotion, that much belief, from anyone. It was humbling, and it was enough to make him take a deep breath and lower his gun. The second he did, Deeks and a member of the SWAT team moved in to cuff Walsh, everyone ignoring his protests and pleas for Callen to end him.

"I thought…" he trailed off, not needing to say the words.

She took a step toward him. "It doesn't matter if I want him dead or not," she said. "It's something I have no right to ask of anyone. I know that."

"You do, though," he insisted, "you _do _have a right to get revenge on the man who abducted you, who terrorized you, who –" he broke off, unable to go on.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "I don't have that right. And even if I did, I'm not willing to accept the consequences of it! I would rather have you with me. _You_, Callen, not some other version of you who would kill a man in an act of revenge, consequences be damned."

He wouldn't meet her eyes, staring instead at the ground. "Someone who would get justice for you, that's what you deserve."

"I don't know if I _deserve_ anything," she allowed. "But I know I _want_ you."

She reached out, tentatively, unsure how he would react. He beat her to it, pulling her to him so quickly that she was caught off guard. He enfolded her in his arms with such a fierce hold that it felt like he was trying to hold her together, and she clung back just as hard, trying to do the same for him. And maybe they both had their weaknesses, but together, she didn't think they could ever break.

**XXXXXX**

"So this is how it ends," Hetty said, taking a sip of her drink. "Walsh is in custody and another case is wrapped up neatly. It amazes me sometimes, Agent Callen, how your team always manages despite the bleakest of odds."

"We are that amazing," Callen said, deadpan. He had his own drink in front of him, courtesy of Hetty, but he hadn't taken a sip. He simply swirled the liquid in his glass.

She ignored his slightly self-deprecating remark and nodded solemnly. "That you are."

Callen was still visibly tense. He raised his glass as if to take as sip, then sighed heavily and placed it back on her desk.

"Out with it, Mr. Callen. What's the matter?"

Callen glanced at her, and she recognized the look in his eyes. He was determined, but also worried about what might happen next. "I know you've had your issues with Nell and I becoming…involved."

Hetty sipped her drink again, taking the moment to compose herself. "Involved is a rather loaded word, don't you think?"

"We're in a relationship," he said bluntly, and she was impressed with his conviction.

He paused, apparently waiting for something. She merely raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And we could lie to you about it, but I won't do that. Nell won't do that. We love each other, and I expect you to respect that. Before, you thought we couldn't continue to work together because of it, and you allowed us an exception to capture Walsh, but I know you didn't mean for that to be an indefinite reprieve."

"No," she admitted, "I did not. Two agents personally involved…it goes against every official and unofficial rule of NCIS – of most workplaces, in fact – and only stands to compromise any future cases the two of you would work on together."

Callen nodded. "I thought you would say that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it onto the desk across from her.

"Do you seriously expect me to open that?" She asked.

He was as serious as she had ever seen him. "If I have no future here with her, then I'm leaving."

Hetty had honestly never expected it to come to this, at least not in the beginning. But after everything she had witnessed, from the way they interacted to how he had insisted on taking a leave of absence along with Nell, she couldn't say that she was that surprised.

Hetty picked up the envelope and tore it into pieces as Callen watched in disbelief. "I don't know what you expect of me, but if you think I'm going to let one – two – of my best agents go because they happened to fall in love, well…you've got another thing coming."

"I don't…Hetty…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"You can thank me, Mr. Callen, by continuing to close cases with your team, something at which you are exceptional. Oh, and invite me to your wedding, won't you?"

In lieu of an answer, he moved around the desk to hug her, and she wondered how she could have ever tried to deny this man – this man she'd always considered the son she never had – of any kind of happiness he'd found in the world.

She might be aging, but she wasn't yet senile enough to deny her own mistakes. And trying to keep them apart was one of her biggest regrets. Thankfully, Callen and Nell were willing to forgive her for it. As for rules, she'd deal with the rest of the fall-out as it came. She wasn't too worried; she had a way of getting people to come around to her way of thinking.

**XXXXXX**

"So we're okay, then?" Nell asked him quietly, trying to avoid attention. They were in ops, not for a case briefing, but because Eric was droning on about some new upgrade he'd made to their system and all the new ways they could track suspects with it. She took the chance to talk to Callen without anyone really noticing.

"We're okay," Callen affirmed. "In return for letting us be together and stay on the same team, Hetty just wants to be godmother to our children."

Nell blinked and felt herself turning all sorts of red. "What?!"

"Just kidding," he winked at her. "But it was implied."

She tried to punch his arm in retaliation, but he saw it coming and side-stepped, trying to grab her instead. She took a step back to avoid him and bumped into another analyst walking by. The girl shrieked and the stack of papers she was carrying went everywhere.

"Sorry," Nell said, helping her pick them up. "I was pushed."

"You were not," Callen argued, helping them both before pulling Nell back to her feet. The girl hurried away hastily.

When they turned back to Eric, they found that he was quietly staring at them. Along with everyone else.

"Look what you did," Nell hissed at Callen.

"Is there something you want to add, Agent Jones?" Eric asked, clipped and professional.

Nell looked around. "Um…Agent Callen had something to say."

He looked aghast at her throwing him under the bus. "I thought we had each other's backs!"

"We do," she said, trying to stay professional and contain her laughter, "which is why I'm giving you the floor, like you wanted."

He briefly glowered at her, both of them knowing he hadn't wanted any such thing, but he could never stay angry when she looked at him like that. When she looked at him any way, really. Besides, he realized, as long as he had the floor… "Actually, there is something I've been meaning to say."

Nell recognized the serious look in his eyes and the fight to contain her smirk instantly vanished as she sobered. "Really?"

"Really," he said, stepping closer to her until he was almost in her space, just far enough away to barely maintain propriety.

"Um…" she took a deep breath as he leaned into her.

"Exactly," he whispered in her ear, "maybe you'll think twice in the future about putting me on the spot?"

"Probably not," she teased, against her better instincts.

"I thought so," he whispered, then raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "In that case…marry me."

Nell inhaled deeply, shock running through her at Callen's words. She'd expected something significant, but certainly not this. "What?"

"Stay with me forever," he said seriously. "I'll do my best to make you happy." As if she hadn't been sure enough of what he was doing, he dropped to his knee in front of her.

Nell shook her head in disbelief, glancing around the room. Deeks and Sam were watching with slightly surprised, yet joyful fascination, Kensi had her hands over her mouth in shock while looking ready to cry, and Eric was staring at them in wide-eyed surprise, one hand absently pressed over his heart. The other analysts were watching in amazed silence, and Hetty – she hadn't even known Hetty was there – was smiling slightly at them from the corner.

"You don't have to _make_ me anything," she protested to Callen, pulling him to stand up. "I'm already happy with you, you know that."

He smiled, blindingly bright and brilliant, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile that way. Maybe she never had. "I'm taking that as a yes, Nell, whether it is or not."

Nell laughed despite herself. "So you're saying you'd force me to marry you even if I didn't agree to it?"

"If that's what it took to keep you," he said thoughtfully, "then yes."

She kissed him enthusiastically in response, remembering just in time to keep it tame because of their rapt audience. She briefly wondered how someone saying they'd force her to marry them had become the most romantic thing in her entire world.

"Okay, then," she agreed, leaning back to look him in the eyes.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Yes," she affirmed. "Yes. How could you think I'd say anything but yes?"

He pulled her back for a kiss, hot and deep and full of passion, and apparently he didn't care about their audience, because it was entirely inappropriate given the other people in the room. She gave in, ignoring the whistling and clapping of their team in the background.

It might not be what she'd expected when she'd first become an NCIS agent, but if this is what she got – the love of this incredible man – then she would grab hold of it, and keep it, and fight for it to the death. And she suspected that he felt the same way.

She pulled away from him. "I love you," she swore, "to the end. To the end of everything."

He smiled at her, and she caught the hint of indulgence there, and the fact that he felt free enough to let it show gave her an assurance this was going to last. "To the end of everything," he promised. Or swore. Or whatever else anyone would call it – the fact was, Nell just took it as his declaration to her. He loved her and would do everything in his power to make sure she knew it. For as long as they both lived.

"To the end," she murmured, smiling against his lips when she felt him smile in response.

"Are you really ready to make Hetty a godmother, though?" He questioned, semi-seriously.

She laughed, because the thought honestly terrified her. "I don't know about that."

"I don't either," he admitted, meeting her eyes with a terrifying seriousness. "But as long as you're with me…I think we can do anything."

"I think we can, too," she said seriously. He kissed her again, and she shut her eyes, clearing her mind of all reservations, fears, and worries about their future.

"Hey guys," Eric broke into their moment, "hate to interrupt this very sweet if bordering on R-rated moment, but we just got an alert – the murder of an NCIS agent in Glendale."

Callen was instantly focused. "Pull it up, Eric."

Eric did just that, giving them the details as they listened, everyone focused on the unjust end of one of their own, all of them equally determined to find the person responsible.

Nell took a moment to look at Callen while no one else was paying attention. This was the man she loved, the one fully devoted to the pursuit of justice for everyone, whether it was a fellow agent or an innocent civilian.

She reached out and carefully touched the back of her hand to his. He responded instantly by linking their fingers together. Even as he did so, his expression never wavered, his voice never changed as he issued orders to his team – nothing gave away the fact that he was drawing silent support from her.

It was then that she knew, without a doubt, that they'd be able to do this. Instead of their relationship hindering each other, it would help them get through the terrible times.

She unconsciously gripped his hand tighter, and he glanced over, shooting her a quick, reassuring smile. Nell relaxed, because the truth of their relationship was visible for all to see, and no one batted an eye, no one was fazed. Their team simply accepted them as they were, separate or together, and she felt the ridiculous urge to hug each one of them in thanks for that – for not having to pretend to be anyone else, for not having to pretend she didn't feel the way she did, she was eternally grateful to them – to those who'd become her family. The most important of whom stood beside her, and always would.

**XXXXXX**


End file.
